


Seraphs and Phoenix Wings

by Daksgirl



Series: Seraphs Series [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drama, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Family, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-21
Updated: 2013-02-02
Packaged: 2017-11-16 18:50:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 30
Words: 132,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/542704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daksgirl/pseuds/Daksgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story about dysfunctional angel families and father issues. Team Free Will + Gabriel are looking for a way to stop the devil, but Lucifer has his own dark agenda. The horsemen aren't impressed but don't have much choice, the demons are clueless, and Raphael is put out. And why is Lucifer so interested in Castiel?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm archiving this fic here from FF.net so I have a copy, because it was popular over there. So all mistakes and whatnot were made a while ago, and the fic is un-betad :)
> 
> This story is continuing pretty much right after my drabble "Of Seraphs and Men" so I strongly encourage you to read that first because I set the scene on angel families that will be playing a major part of this story. It's a pretty big story, an alternate Season 5 and 6 with elements of both. There will be dark themes, happy themes, humor, angst, h/c, you name it I'll probably be putting it in. But the underlying plot is definitely centered on angels, Lucifer, and a different interpretation of angel mythology. Anyways, on with the story! Hope you enjoy :)

**Pairings:** None this chapter, but this story will have Dean/Castiel in it. Might have some slight Sabriel as well, but not graphic. Just a heads up!

 **Genre** : Family/ Drama  
 **Spoilers:** All season 5 and 6 just to be safe. This chapter is roughly set after 'Changing Channels' then veers off heavily into AR territory.  
 **Warnings** : Blood this chapter, slight cursing. Eventually this story will have other warnings, but I'll warn for them at the beginning of each chapter.

* * *

 

Normally, Bobby's house was a safe, quiet place that the Winchesters could return to and try to forget the fact that the apocalypse was in full swing. It was the closest thing they had to a permanent home and its owner the closest thing they now had to a father. It was their sanctuary when shit got too hot, the hunts too rough, or life got too hard.

Today, it was anything but quiet.

Sam buried his face further into the protective fold of his arms on the desk, as the loud clanging in the kitchen continued. Dean was slumped in a chair across from him, a beer bottle held loosely in his hand, staring at War's ring on the mahogany table and pointedly ignoring the commotion. Sam sighed heavily as Bobby's gruff voice competed with the noise in the kitchen as the hunter discovered the noisy intruder.

"Git your feathered ass away from my cupboards you overgrown pigeon!" Bobby bellowed. "Last time you fiddled around in here all I could find was candy and syrup for a week!"

There was a burst of louder clanging, and the scuffing of feet.

"You say that like it's a bad thing!" Another voice said, closely followed by the unmistakable sounds of Bobby chasing someone around his kitchen.

The clanging stopped, and Sam raised his head curiously just in time to see Gabriel hurry into the study, winking mischievously at him. Sam groaned, dropping his head back onto his arms as Dean snorted.

The archangel had healed Bobby's legs without a second thought, and the Winchester's were grateful for it, really they were, but the angel seemed more trouble than he was worth half the time. Already they had woken up to various pranks; food was constantly turning into sweet things, Sam's clothes were always two sizes too small, Dean's shampoo bottle had mysteriously turned into a rather annoyed ferret one fateful day, and whoopee cushions seemed to be under every chair cushion in the house.

If Dean didn't dislike the angel so much, he would have been best friends with him.

"Not all of us want diabetes within an hour Gabriel," Sam grumbled, his voice muffled in his arms.

The archangel shrugged, giving Sam's hair a cheeky ruffle as he moved by. "Spoilsports."

Castiel was silently leaning against the wall, eyes still trained on War's ring. Gabriel headed towards his side, and Dean watched them curiously out of the corner of his eye. Since Gabriel had decided to join their little rag-tag team, Cas didn't go flying off nearly as often. Instead they both stuck around, Gabriel making their lives just _that_ bit more difficult and Cas…well.

Dean would deny it to his dying day, but it was nice to have the angel around, helping out. Since their little run-in with Raphael, Dean had started to look at the angel differently. He wasn't just a dick with wings anymore, he was a hunter like them, with opinions and quirks and vices. He was a _friend_. Maybe the first one Dean had had in…well ever. And with Gabriel around, Castiel's grace wasn't as weak as it had been before, and that could only be a good thing. Dean didn't want to see the angel head down the 'stoned out of my mind' route Zachariah- _the colossal prick-_ had shown him.

Gabriel nudged up against Castiel's side with his shoulder, and the younger angel smiled slightly, turning his focused gaze over to his brother. Dean tried to ignore the sudden stab of jealousy. The two were brothers right? Brothers always shared a type of secret communication, hell he and Sam had one too. So angels communicated by staring at each other like weirdoes. Fine no big deal.

Except….that was his and Cas's thing. Staring.

Wonderful, he was that annoying kid on the playground who never shared their toys with the other kids. _Great._

After communing together silently for a moment, Gabriel moved away from Castiel to look curiously at the gaudy ring on the desk. Bobby had been keeping the ring in the panic room, but had brought it out to show the archangel now he had joined them. Dean hadn't really thought about it, but that was War's _ring_. A freaking horseman of the apocalypse. What the hell were they going to do with it?

"Huh. I kinda expected it to be…shinier," Gabriel mused, reaching out with a finger to poke it cautiously.

Sam raised his head to look at it, grimacing. His hair was getting long now, and the younger Winchester blew it out of his eyes irritably. "So what now? What do we do with it?"

Castiel moved away from the wall, hands buried in his trench coat. "More importantly; why is Lucifer summoning the horsemen?"

"Well it's the end of the world," Bobby grumped as he strode into the room, shooting a dark look at Gabriel who smiled weakly at him. The hunter shooed Sam away from the desk, studying the various dusty tomes he had gathered there from beneath the frayed visor of his cap. "I can't find much information on horseman rings in the texts. Nothin' that makes sense at least."

Gabriel shook his head, studying the ring with a frown. "You probably wouldn't. The horsemen exist mainly as incorporeal entities. This is the first time they've become corporeal in this plane of existence. Question is _why_. Why is Lucifer is tethering them to him?" He picked up the ring, hefting the weight of it in his palm. "The power of horsemen is represented in their rings. I'd bet money that Lucifer wants this baby back. Without it, War is nothing more than a ghost with an attitude problem."

Dean leaned forward as Gabriel set the ring carefully back down on the desk. "So let's get this thing to Mordor before Gollum gets here."

Sam shot him an incredulous look, and Dean grinned. "What? I paid attention to that movie. Eowyn was _hot_."

"Nothing can destroy the ring. You can't destroy any of the horsemen, the world needs them. Imagine a world without Death. It might sound nice, but believe me, we'd be worse off," Gabriel smirked. "Besides, one does not simply walk into Mordor, Frodo."

Sam rolled his eyes, ignoring his brother and the archangel. "Let's not forget about the angels on our case as well. A certain archangel in fact. Sorry Cas, but I think you guys just pissed him off, summoning him then trapping him."

Gabriel jerked slightly, attention diverted from bickering with Dean, eyes narrowing. "Raphael? What's she done now?"

Dean tapped his bottle on the desk. "She? Raphael was very dude-like when we ran into _her_ last."

Gabriel rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. "Her vessel may be male, but she always preferred a female form in heaven. Made her scarier."

Sam nodded absently. "That I can believe. Hell I've never met her and _I'm_ terrified. After what happened to Cas…" he trailed off as Castiel gave him a wide eyed _'please be quiet'_ look, but the damage had been done.

Gabriel slowly turned to his brother. " _What,_ happened?" his voice was low. The group were astonished to see Castiel look down abashedly, shoes scuffing the carpet like a little kid in trouble.

"She…did not appreciate my efforts in helping the Winchesters," the angel mumbled.

Dean's sudden bark of laughter startled everyone. "Well that's one way of putting it, man. She _blew you up,_ Cas."

The room suddenly seemed very frosty. Gabriel's eyes were huge as he looked over at the Winchesters, before turning to stare at the cringing angel.

"She what?" Gabriel yelled. "She _killed you?_ "

Castiel reached for him, hand resting lightly on the archangel's arm, squeezing reassuringly. "I am fine now, Gabriel. God resurrected me."

 _That's a new thing too_ , Dean mused. Castiel and Gabriel seemed to constantly be touching each other; little gestures like a hand on the shoulder or arm, shoulders resting against each other as they stood. Like they were both afraid the other would disappear suddenly.

Gabriel looked troubled, his shoulders shifting restlessly as he started pacing. "Not that I'm not appreciative that you're still with us Castiel, but God has been a no-show for several millennia. I don't think He could have resurrected you."

Castiel's eyes flashed, and Dean nearly chuckled. _Here comes the stubborn, dick with wings attitude._

"Just because our Father has been… _absent_ from heaven, doesn't mean he is not still with us. You may have lost your faith Gabriel, but I have not."

Sam had his 'I am-a-huge-knowledge-sponge-please-feed-me' face on. "If God has been missing for a while, what about Jesus?"

Gabriel was still pacing tight lines by the window, brow furrowed. "Well that was planned out a long time ago. God didn't really have to be there." He said absently.

Even that caught Dean's attention. "How did _that_ work?"

"Let's just say some things you're better off not knowing."

Bobby waved his hands at the four. "Ladies, if you're finished gossiping, we kind of have a devil to take care of."

Gabriel stopped his pacing, and Castiel sighed heavily, walking over to pick up the ring. Dean watched those long fingers run along the edges of the metal, dancing over the gem.

"If we keep ahold of the ring, perhaps it will temporarily foil Lucifer's plans," the angel suggested.

Dean shook his head. "Temporarily being the key there, Cas. We need a _weapon_. Something that'll kill the devil for good."

Gabriel frowned. "Well an angel blade won't do it. Angel blades only work on lower ranking angels. Not archangels."

Bobby slammed the book he had been flicking through closed, a cloud of dust rising from the tome.

"Well alright then, what'll kill _you_?" he asked.

Gabriel shook his head with a snort, unfolding his arms to make a rude sign at the hunter with his finger.

"Like I'm going to tell you _that,_ old man."

Castiel was still looking at the ring, his mouth a tight line. He raised his head to fix the archangel in a steely blue gaze, communicating something in freaky angel speak silently.

The archangel glared darkly at the younger angel for a moment, before giving in with a sigh. "Ok, I only know one thing that might-and _might_ is the operative word here- kill the devil. A gun called the Colt. I don't know if it's powerful enough to kill Lucifer, but I certainly don't want it pointed at me."

Sam groaned, burying his face in his hands. "Great. You're kidding."

Gabriel was looking at him curiously. "Well, Trickster by trade, but for once, no I'm not. Why, what's got your pink, lacy panties in a twist, Samantha?"

Yep. If not for being a huge dick archangel, Dean would have definitely been best friends with Gabriel in another life.

Dean sighed, kicking his legs out further as he rolled the beer bottle between his hands. "Figures. We _had_ the Colt, but it was stolen. By a bitch called Bella. God knows where it is now."

Gabriel looked over at Castiel, and the other angel nodded slightly. With a sullen grumble under his breath about humans, the archangel shoved his hands into his faded jeans.

"Then I guess we need to find that out huh?" Gabriel asked lightly. "Not like I had any plans for today anyways. Saving the world always trumps everything else, _apparently._ "

Castiel ignored his brother, turning to Dean, his eyes serious. "Leave it to us. We will find the Colt."

 

* * *

 

Greg Miller had been a good man.

He had a wife, two kids and a golden retriever called Gus. He could recite the alphabet backwards, and after a few beers, sing the National Anthem using only a wet hand and his armpit. He had gone to university, but dropped out after a semester, deciding it really wasn't for him.

Unfortunately for Greg, he worked at a little gas station along a highway that stayed mostly empty apart from the odd trucker or lost honeymooning couple. It had suited him fine up until 30 minutes ago.

Now he lay prone beneath the flickering, garish gas-station lights. His body lay chest down, but his face was upturned towards the ceiling, dead eyes still wide in surprise and shock. A sticky pool of dark blood was slowly spreading beneath him, reflecting the fluorescent lights and staining his uniform.

Greg Miller had not expected the devil to come calling at his lonely gas station.

Lucifer ignored the body, fingers running along the dusty shelves as he slowly walked up and down the aisles, studying the different bright packages. A group of nervous looking demons waited by the door, eyes flickering between the fallen angel, and the sulking figure sat on the checkout counter.

War grimaced, a box of Goldfish pressed between his thighs as he struggled to tear open the cardboard. His right hand was heavily bandaged and slightly bloodstained, and made it impossible to tear open the cardboard box. With a noise of disgust, the horseman threw the box away, and it thumped loudly on the linoleum, skidding slightly.

"I can't even open a box of crackers," War muttered. "Look at this! This is _crap!_ " He waved his bandaged hand in front of him irritably.

Lucifer picked up a box of Oreos, studying the cheerful, bright blue box. One long finger tapped the box thoughtfully as he turned back to face the horseman.

"I guess one needs _all_ their fingers," he drawled, eyes flashing.

War glared over at him, wriggling the fingers of his other hand at the devil rudely. "Yes thank you for that input. I hadn't realized. I thought it would _magically_ grow back after the Winchesters cut it off."

The box of Oreos creaked under the devils grip, and the assembled demons at the doorway cringed.

"The _Winchesters,_ " Lucifer's voice was laced with venom. "Now there's a name that can ruin my good mood."

Pleased that he had caused such a reaction, War grinned, feet kicking the air idly as he cast around for an easier to open snack. "So I hear. What's so important about those two anyways? You're perfectly capable of keeping your vessel in one piece for now, right? For two chosen ones, those two chuckle heads don't really seem that impressive."

Lucifer frowned, dropping the box of Oreos to the ground. "It's none of your concern."

War shrugged. "Suit yourself. I think it just seems like a whole lot of trouble we're going through to keep them occupied and out of the way."

The devil glared over at him, and again the demons cowered away, half expecting the fallen angel to explode with rage. "I don't need you to _think_ , I need you to _do_. Something that has been sorely lacking as of late."

The horseman held his hands held up, eyes wide with mock fear. "Well _excuse_ _me_ your royal highness. I am but a lowly serf to your magnificent self."

Lucifer's face twisted in a snarl as he stalked towards the horseman, not caring when he walked into the sticky pool of dark blood staining the linoleum.

"I would keep a tight rein on that sharp tongue, War," his voice was quiet, but laced with barely concealed disgust. "If I had the choice, I would wipe you, and the rest of your _archaic_ horsemen, out."

War didn't seem intimidated, merely waving the devil away with his bandaged hand. "Yeah, yeah, you can drop the bratty attitude, kid. You need us. _All_ of us. Wouldn't hurt you to be a bit more…shall we say, _courteous_."

Lucifer snorted, not even casting a glance down as he stepped over the body of Greg Miller. "Courteous? This is the end of times, horseman. Manners aren't my highest concern. Why do you think I'm summoning you? It's not to make idle chit chat."

War shrugged, legs still swinging. "For our smiling faces and sunny personalities?"

The devil pointedly ignored him. "Now thanks to your _incompetence_ , the Winchesters have the ring. I need it back, War."

"Hey, I want it back too you know," War noticed the plastic tub of lollipops on the counter, and with his good hand, delved into it. "That thing is a family heirloom. I don't want them getting their sticky human fingers all over it."

He held up a lollipop triumphantly, before realizing he'd have to unwrap it. With a long-suffering sigh, he dropped the sweet back into the container. "But in case you hadn't noticed, they're hard to find these days, thanks to a certain rogue angel."

Lucifer turned away, jaw clenched, to look at the nervous group of demons.

"We will find them. And when we do…" Lucifer looked over at the horseman scornfully. "Try not to lose anymore body parts. I need you in at least a few manageable pieces."

War glared daggers at the devil as his back was turned.

"I'll do my best, _Master,_ " the horseman ground.

….


	2. Chapter 2

It was a clear night, and the moon hung bright and grinning in the dark sky as a cool breeze rustled through the grass and shrubs. The dark grounds surrounding the rather lavish mansion were quiet save for a few insomniac squirrels, and two security men clad in dark suits. Slowly, as the quiet of the night continued, the two patrolling the iron fence relaxed, murmuring to each other in low voices and quiet chuckles.

But this was no normal residence.

Castiel peered out at the conversing demons, hidden from view behind a thick, bushy shrub. The angel was crouched low, hands braced on the cool grass in front of him; eyes sharp and focused in the dim light. His beige trench coat actually leant him good camouflage against the browns and greens of the garden, and Castiel held himself as still as possible, barely breathing. The demons finally parted ways, the larger of the two heading along the side of the house, tucking his black suit coat more firmly around him with a shiver.

Castiel nearly yelped out loud as a mouth suddenly pressed close to his ear, breaking his concentration.

"I feel like we should have codenames," Gabriel whispered cheerily. "What's our next move, Huggy Bear?"

Perhaps it had been a poor decision to search for the demon with Gabriel. His brother seemed incapable of taking anything seriously.

They had managed to locate information thanks to several of Gabriel's "contacts". Castiel wasn't sure he'd ever be able to sleep easy, knowing what types of creatures his brother had socialized with, but the source had been certain; a crossroad demon by the name of Crowley was in possession of the Colt. His hideout hadn't been difficult to locate with Gabriel's assistance; the place was so heavily warded it stuck out like a sore thumb.

"Gabriel, I realize this is difficult for you, but we need to maintain a relatively… _professional_  exterior if we are to successfully gain the Colt without any additional difficulties!" Castiel hissed.

Gabriel snorted, his wings rustling in a rude gesture that only served to irk Castiel more. "You mean  _boring_ exterior. Fine. I'll be good." The archangel crept forward on his knees, studying the mansion seriously. "So this is a demon house huh? Man I've been out of the game too long. Back in my day they didn't even  _have_  houses."

Castiel sighed heavily. "Yes. You have. If the source is correct, then Crowley is inside, though heavily guarded. He seems to have knowledge of Enochian as well; there are several angel wards that we will not be able to pass through," he frowned. "We should report back to Dean."

The grin Gabriel shot him was not reassuring. "Dean, shmean. Don't worry little brother. You don't play a Trickster for several centuries and NOT pick up a few things. Wait here."

Gabriel disappeared before Castiel could protest.

Muttering a few choice words under his breath, Castiel shifted nervously, watching the building in front of him. After a few minutes of tense anticipation, he was relieved to find there were no shouts or movement alerting Gabriel's presence. The grass was itchy beneath his knees, even through his slacks, and Castiel cast an irritated glare down, brushing away an insect as it fluttered weakly against his cheek. Though Gabriel's assistance was preventing his grace from completely diminishing, it was still not as it should be. He still felt weak and very much mortal most of the time. This body was his alone now and often, Castiel had no idea what to do with it.

It was very disconcerting. Or in the eloquent words of Dean Winchester, it sucked major  _balls_.

Gabriel's sudden reappearance startled him and Castiel fell backwards with a grunt, landing on his butt. Gabriel merely grinned at him, eyes glittering in the dim light.

"If you're ready to leave the bush, I think I solved our little sigil problem."

Castiel glared at him irritably, brushing the grass from his legs and coat as he righted himself. "Should I be concerned?"

Gabriel shrugged carelessly. "Probably. Come on, we got some infiltrating to do."

With a wild grin, the archangel was off again, and with a dark curse, Castiel took flight after him.

He was too late however; the archangel had already managed to quietly dispose of all the guards outside with no more than a snap of his fingers. Sometimes Castiel forgot how powerful his brother was. Gabriel had always been the most easy-going of all the archangels, it was easy to forget that he was in fact one.

Castiel watched as Gabriel opted for a more human approach to enter the property; picking the lock with a conjured piece of thin metal. He had learnt many years ago to not question why Gabriel did some things the mortal way, and didn't bother pointing out the futility of it now.

The door finally clicked open, and Gabriel winked at Castiel over his shoulder. "Take it from me kiddo, try being a Trickster for a while. You learn all sorts of interesting things."

Castiel followed him inside, choosing to ignore the way the archangel flitted from shadow to shadow, humming an odd tune under his breath. Dean had once shown him a film with that song; Castiel couldn't quite remember what it had been called, but there had been a man named James in a suit who seemed to seduce a great number of women whilst foiling the plots of apparently bad men. He thought to ask Gabriel what the meaning of humming such a tune was, but decided against it. His brother didn't need any encouragement.

The mansion was lavishly furnished, expensive paintings and rugs adorning most of the rooms. The Enochian sigils that had been painted outside where strangely absent inside, however Castiel was surprised to see other sigils painted along the walls in places, ancient Druid and Sumerian sigils that had long since been lost to man. It seemed this demon was either particularly superstitious, or had a great deal of enemies.

Gabriel stopped his humming, both angels pausing in the dark doorway of what seemed to be a living room. A dark carpeted hallway stretched in front of them, a door to the right. Light filtered through the crack beneath the door, and Gabriel rolled his shoulders.

"Seems like our demon works late. Should we drop in?"

Castiel's eyes were grim, and he shook his head slightly. "We should proceed with caution. We would do well to not underestimate this demon. Perhaps we should evaluate the rest of the house before attempting a confrontation."

Gabriel rolled his eyes, body twitching with excited energy barely held in check. "You know, you sound  _a lot_  like Raphael. It's a  _demon_ Castiel, not a friggin' expedition up Mount Everest."

Castiel glared at his brother, wings twitching in irritation. "And you have not been training within a garrison. I am a soldier Gabriel, this is what I  _do_."

There was something unreadable in Gabriel's eyes, and Castiel felt a stab of guilt. Gabriel had never approved of his decision to accept Raphael's re-organization of heaven after Lucifer's fall. But Gabriel could never understand; Castiel was  _respected_  as a soldier. As a younger seraph he had…not been.

"Yeah. Can't forget that," Gabriel said softly. He took a deep breath, gesturing in front of him, down the dark corridor. "Alright little soldier. You lead the assault on Operation Crowley. I won't interfere."

Castiel winced. Once, he and Gabriel had been so close. Gabriel had been not only his brother but also a mentor, a teacher and a friend. His disappearance from heaven had been one of the most painful things Castiel had ever had to deal with. It had festered deep inside his grace for so long that when he had finally found out that Gabriel was in fact on Earth and very much alive, he had been torn between elation and rage.

It would take a while for their relationship to build up to what it had been. But Castiel wanted it more than anything.

Castiel reached out, fingers tightening on his brother's shoulder. "I apologize. We will do this together, Gabriel. Even if we have to…do it your way."

Gabriel smiled, the sadness in his eyes dissipating. "That's more like it!" He started towards the door. "Let's go say hi to our new friend."

 

* * *

 

To say Crowley was surprised would be an understatement.

Not only were there two intruders in his home, they were  _not_  the Winchesters he had been expecting. In fact, they were  _angels._  He was either incredibly screwed, or incredibly lucky.

Crowley had always thought of himself has a glass-half-full kind of demon.

The crossroad demon smiled winningly at the two angels who had just burst into his study, his borrowed heart racing. "Gentlemen. To what do I owe such a late night visit? Pleasure or business?" Crowley inched away from his desk, spreading his hands placatingly. "Or should I just bend myself over the desk and save you the trouble?"

The angel dressed like a detective out of a Pink Panther film, frowned at him. "I fail to see how that would help your situation demon."

The smaller angel rolled his eyes. "He thinks we're here to screw him over, Castiel. He's being witty."

Ah. So that was Castiel.

Crowley had heard about that one. Hell was rife with gossip these days, and though he made a point to stay away from hell (as  _far_  as he could thanks) a demon had to be on top of his game, especially a demon doing deals. Castiel, the little angel that could. The angel who dragged Dean Winchester kicking and screaming from the pit. Word was the angel rebelled for him and was wanted by Heaven now, on the run with the Winchesters trying to stop the devil.

Hm. Maybe this wasn't such a bad situation after all.

The other one Crowley didn't recognize. Now, he hadn't exactly met a whole lot of angels in his time (though there had been that heaven and hell mixer party that one time; God but had  _that_  been a terrible idea), preferring to associate with beings who held a lot less hatred for his kind, but even with his lack of angel knowledge, he could tell this one was different. He had a strange aura of power around him, something powerful. He'd have to tread carefully with these two. They looked harmless enough but in Crowley's line of work, looks were always,  _always_ deceiving.

"Gotta say, you seem to know a lot about pleasure," the smaller angel remarked, whistling appreciatively as he glanced around the mahogany decorated study with its various priceless artifacts. "You got style."

The angel, Castiel, cast a sharp glance at his friend warningly and Crowley smiled slightly, shrugging. "What can I say? I enjoy the finer things in life."

"Enough," Castiel said sharply, voice low. "We are here to retrieve the Colt, not compliment your dubious aesthetic tastes."

Crowley feigned surprise. "Oh well why didn't you say so? Help yourself!" He nodded towards an ornate box sitting on his desk. "I figured the Winchesters would come along for it sooner or later. She's all yours boys."

The smaller angel studied him dubiously as Castiel strode towards the box. "Just like that?" he asked incredulously.

Crowley nodded firmly. "Just like that."

Castiel opened the box to study the gleaming revolver tucked safely inside. He didn't pick it up, merely casting a look at his companion and clicking the box shut. "It is the Colt." He glanced over at Crowley. "Why are you so willing to part with it?"

Crowley spread his hands. "Hey, I didn't get to be the big cheese of crossroads by sticking my head in the sand. I know all about Lucifer and the Winchesters. You guys want the devil gone, and want to use the Colt to kill him."

The angels shared another look.

"So why are you handing it over? Shouldn't you be running straight to daddy with it?" the shorter one asked.

Crowley snorted. "Lucifer is no daddy of mine. When all is said and done and he's had his fun with the humans and laid siege to heaven and whatnot, who do you think he'll turn to next?" Crowley shook his head, walking back over to the desk. "He doesn't give two shits about us demons, we're expendable. Even lower down the food chain than humans in that grand scheme of his."

He tapped the box containing the Colt. "So you and your pet Winchesters use the Colt, put the devil down or back where he came from and everyone's happy yeah?"

Castiel crossed his arms, mouth a tight line and eyes hard. A serious angel that one. "And you pick up where he left off in hell."

Crowley couldn't contain the sharp bark of laughter that forced its way out of him. "Can't get a  _thing_ past you can I? Ok you caught me. Yeah I want the job. But I don't care about apocalypses or killing humans. Hello, where would I be then? No deals, no souls, no work for Crowley."

The other angel had approached the desk, frowning. It made him nervous, and Crowley backed up a few paces. "What if the Colt doesn't work?"

"Well that's the catch isn't it?" Crowley shrugged. "No guarantee. I hope you appreciate the risk I'm running just giving it to you. I am pissing off very scary people in  _very_ scary places."

"How noble," Short stuff crossed his arms, golden eyes practically burning holes into the demon. "What do you want in return? There's always a catch with you crossroad demons."

"A catch? Moi?" Crowley's eyes were wide in mock hurt. "Scouts honor, I was going to just give this to the Winchesters and call it a day. But now that you're here…" The demon tapped his chin thoughtfully, before narrowing his eyes. "I want protection. Those two chuckleheads can't offer me that, but you two can." Castiel opened his mouth to protest, and Crowley barreled on. It was now or never if he was going to negotiate a deal. "Like I said, I am screwing over some major bad guys. I want angelic protection if it-and it  _will_ \- backfires. You give me that, I might even sweeten the deal and help you find the devil so you can try that baby out."

Castiel was glaring at him, righteous holy wrath not far behind, and the demon braced himself for a smiting. It was the other one who probably saved him, stepping forward. Castiel broke eye contact at that, casting a sharp glance at his companion.

"Gabriel," the angel warned.

_Gabriel huh? Interesting._  Crowley stored that nugget of information away for later.

"So you help us, we help you. That kind of deal?"

Crowley nodded quickly. The angel frowned for a moment, before shrugging.

"Works for me," To Crowley's surprise, he held a hand out, and Castiel hissed something in Enochian.

Crowley grinned.  _Bingo._ "You want an official contract? 'Cause us crossroad folk don't just shake hands anymore, and you don't exactly have a soul to offer."

"That's true," the angel shrugged, and something mischievous was sparking in his eyes _. Oh I like this one._ "We just make it up as we go. If we're gonna do this, I want assurance you're not going to hightail it under a rock the moment things get hot, or sell us out to a higher bidder. You want us as allies? Fine. But this works both ways."

Crowley's stomach sank, mulling that over unhappily.

"You sure know your way around a deal." He remarked.

The angel just grinned. "I've been around."

Crowley sighed heavily. It wasn't like he had a lot of options. Hopefully this would still work in his favor.

"Fine. You help me, I help you. I break contract, my damned demon soul is yours. You break contract, and your lovely angelic grace is mine for the taking."

Castiel still didn't look particularly happy, but the other angel nodded.

"The contract lasts until Lucifer is taken care of, then the contract terminates. We part ways never to see each other again," the angel said firmly.

Crowley rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. You know, you wouldn't make a half-bad crossroad demon. Ever consider going into sales?"

Castiel was looking thunderous again. "And you will not hurt the Winchesters either."

Crowley pouted. "No promises. But I won't actively go after them. There, happy?"

Both angels shared a look, before nodding. The smaller angel,  _Gabriel_ , stepped forward, smirking.

"Deal. Pucker up demon boy."

Now, Crowley had made a lot of deals over the years. This was the first one he had struck with an angel however, and the demon wasn't about to pass up the opportunity to take full advantage of it. He  _may_ have slipped the angel some tongue action. Only out of  _scientific_ curiosity of course. The talk in hell was that angels were frigid creatures with absolutely no sex appeal. Last time Crowley had been in hell, there had been a pool of souls set aside for the first demon to find out if angels actually were capable of such things. Crowley imagined kissing an angel would be like smooching up to a slab of concrete, all hard, cold and no emotion.

This angel tasted like warm cotton candy.

 

* * *

 

Sam was starting to see double, the words of the text in front of him starting to swim and merge. Blearily he rubbed his red eyes, blinking furiously. He hadn't been sleeping well, not since…well he was just over-tired was all. Didn't help that he had to face every day with a stomach heavy with guilt at what he had started.  _The apocalypse._ He resisted the urge to just slam his face into the book, frustration suddenly boiling hot and heavy in his veins. He could hear the faint clanging of Dean, working out in the junkyard on some sorry excuse for a car. Meant Dean was stewing about something if he was out there, and Sam sighed again.  _Why me?_

The sudden whirlwind of papers set scattering around the study had him up in a panicked flurry of limbs, half expecting the devil to suddenly descend on him cackling. Instead he saw only Cas and very smug-looking Gabriel. Cas was holding a carved wooden box in his hands, calmly stepping over the chaos both angels had created.

"We have the colt," he said solemnly as Sam sank back down into his chair.

"New ally too!" Gabriel clucked his tongue, peering over at the text Sam had been reading. Irrationally, Sam covered it with his arm, glaring at the archangel.

"Ally?" he asked. Castiel glared at Gabriel, but the archangel ignored him, moving towards the sofa.

"Yes. A demon had the Colt. He has extended his services to us after Gabriel… _convinced_ him."

Well that sounded cheery.

Sam eyed the box warily. "Great. Dean'll love that. But at least we have the Colt. The demon just handed it over?"

Cas nodded, setting the box down carefully onto the desk. "He will also help us find Lucifer. It will take some time however. He will contact us when he has more information."

"Can we trust him?"

Gabriel snorted, flopping down heavily onto the sofa, legs sprawling loosely. "Crowley? Of course not. But he's all we've got right now. I start flapping my archangel wings around the place and I'll attract too much attention. Raphael shaped attention. She's stronger than I am and far less pleasant."

"I find  _that_ hard to believe." The three looked up to find Bobby in the doorway, arms folded. Two very familiar shapes were behind him, and with a grin Sam stood up, nearly knocking over his chair.

"Ellen! Jo!"

Both Harvelle women grinned at him, Jo pushing past Bobby to wrap her arms around Sam's waist in a short bear hug.

"Didn't think you got rid of us did you?" Ellen smiled, patting him on the shoulder. "After that whole mess with War, we figured you boys might need some help."

Sam cast a dubious look over Jo's head at Bobby, who just shook his head, shrugging his shoulders helplessly.

"I tried sayin' no. You ever said no to a Harvelle woman? They don't take kindly to it."

Ellen turned, hands on her hips as she glared over at the older hunter. "You best believe it Robert Singer. Aint nobody gonna tell me what I can and can't do. Aint that right baby girl?"

Jo pulled away from Sam, copying her mother's pose as she mock-glared over at Bobby.

"That's right mama bear," she growled.

Bobby paused for a beat, before bursting out laughing, Jo's façade melting as she grinned at him. "Girl, you're a Harvelle alright."

Ellen's smile faltered as she noticed the other two occupants of the room. Her eyes narrowed, and she moved closer to her daughter protectively.

"And who are you supposed to be?" she asked gruffly.

Sam had to hide a grin at Cas's look of pure panic. Jo glanced over at him, eyes lighting up as she checked the angel over curiously.

"Oh that's Cas. Dean's guardian angel," she winked at him, and if possible, Castiel looked even more flustered. Gabriel seemed less intimidated, smiling winningly as he rose from his sprawl on the couch.

Jo nodded towards him. "You must be that 'damned idjit Gabriel'. Bobby's words."

Gabriel nodded, purposefully keeping a respectful distance from the bubbly blonde under her mother's watchful glare. "Damned idjit at your service."

Ellen was still looking at him warily. "Angels huh? Never thought I'd see the day. Least of all an archangel."

Gabriel looked surprised she had figured it out so quickly, but hid it underneath another smile. "Haven't been one of those in a while."

Ellen didn't let up her close scrutiny of him. "So I hear. You leave my boys alone and we won't have any trouble ya hear?" Both Bobby and Sam shot an amused glance at each other as Gabriel merely nodded.

"You got it scary lady."

Ellen settled down into the chair Sam had vacated. "Alright then. Now we got those niceties outta the way, someone go get that boy hammering away outside. We got business to discuss."


	3. Chapter 3

At one point, the Preston Motel had been a pretty nice place. The owner had been a man named Jim Preston, and he had sunk all of his savings into sprucing the place up. The motel boasted a fine dining room usually only seen in proper hotels; equipped with a high end kitchen and a chef named Laura. Each bedroom had cable and wireless, along with a few other luxuries and in the deluxe suits, the bath even had a Jacuzzi setting.

Now the place was a mess.

Doors had been ripped from their hinges, windows smashed and furniture overturned. Broken glass littered the hallways and stairwells, winking in the dim light. Corpses lay in their congealed pools of blood, bones shattered and ligaments snapped. A disturbingly cheerful drawing of a group of stickmen had been drawn on one white wall in blood; accompanied by a grinning stick-devil. Up the stained stairs and along the hallway of the second floor was a small gaggle of demons, all lined silently along the wall, keeping watch over a single room.

The honeymoon deluxe suite.

This suite had been the most luxurious of all. In the middle of the room was a large mahogany, queen sized bed with silk red sheets and goose down comforter. The room had a large screen TV, a leather couch, and in the bathroom, a tub that could fit at least 6 people, with massaging jets. The carpet had been a rich fluffy beige, the kind of carpet that if you dug your toes in, it would leave a dent for a good few minutes.

Now it was stained a dark red, the carpet fibers wet and sticky.

Slumped in the doorway leading to the bathroom was Jim Preston himself, his skin a dead ashen grey, eyes deep dark sunken pits. His white dress shirt was plastered to his bony body, stained a disgusting pus green. A little further out into the room lay his wife; a pretty blonde in life, she was now just another garish decoration in death. To the left of the corpse sat a figure at the oak table of the room, a large newspaper spread in front of him. As he sniffed, a dark wet spot began to spread along the paper where his fingers clutched it.

On the huge bed, War lay on his back, staring absently up at the ceiling. He tapped the fingers of his left hand against the bedspread, playing out a dark tune. The now blood-stained bedspread squelched wetly under his fingers and the horseman sighed heavily.

"I'm bored," he announced to the room.

There was a rustle, and the figure hidden behind the moist newspaper, sniffed again.

"War, you're always bored if there's nothing on fire or exploding."

War rolled over onto his stomach, the bedspread squishing wetly beneath him. "And your point is? I'm not good at sitting around and waiting. I'm a  _doer_."

There was a heavy sigh, followed by a wet cough. Slowly, Pestilence folded the damp newspaper and slapped it down on the oak table. His eyes were yellow and running with fluid; the sides of his mouth crusted with green pus. The constant thrum of flies reverberated throughout the room.

"That's your problem War. You don't appreciate the beauty that can come with a  _slow_  approach." Pestilence coughed again. "Take disease for an example: there's perfection in the slow agonizing way it consumes everything, leaving nothing but decay."

War made a face as something burst inside Pestilence's nasal cavity, gushing a foul smelling and black liquid that dripped onto the surface of the table. Several flies left the corpse of Jim Preston, swarming towards the horseman. A few bounced weakly against War's own cheek; the insects fat and slow on gorged food. War swatted them away irritably.

"Why are you so disgusting? It's like you and Famine are competing for ugliest horseman. You could form a club. Death can be your president."

Pestilence ran a hand under his nose; smearing the foul fluid across his face with a contented sigh. He cleared his throat; phlegm rattling in his lungs as he slowly pushed the chair back, standing on weak legs.

"Yeah like you're so pretty yourself," he sneered.

"You kidding?" War sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, ignoring the stiff body of a maid just protruding from beneath it. "Nothing more beautiful than war. All that blood and adrenaline…" the horseman sighed dreamily. "But I miss the old days you know? Shattered shields, gleaming swords and blood spraying across ancient battlefields...now  _that_ was war."

Pestilence rolled his shoulders, relishing the feel of tumors rubbing beneath his skin. "I thought you were looking forward to advanced weapons. You were  _so_  excited about those heat seeking missiles."

War shrugged. "They're ok. But modern warfare is so  _impersonal._  Can't just swing an axe into someone's face anymore. Weapons of mass destruction just take the fun out of it."

Pestilence poked the dead body of Mrs. Preston with his foot, watching as her skin rapidly blackened and decayed at his touch. "Well  _I_  don't miss the old days. Remember having to ride horses?" the horseman coughed harshly, blood speckling his lips. "Trying to get Famine's bony ass on his was a task and half."

War had risen from the bed and gone to the open doorway. He peered outside; grinning as the demons outside all straightened nervously. Lucifer had assigned the demons to watch over the horsemen. War had been affronted at first, like they needed  _babysitting_ or something, but he was getting used to it. Once he had his fun with the humans, he had to torture _something_ after all. Demons would do in a pinch. He looked over at his brother, grinning.

"Hey I liked my horse. Just because yours was all mucus ridden and kept sneezing. I named mine Sparky. We  _bonded_."

Pestilence attempted a laugh, but ended up coughing instead. "Yeah he nearly set fire to Death," he wheezed.

War sniffed indignantly, pulling his head back into the room. The demons outside collectively sighed in relief. "That's what you get when you try to pet a fiery stallion of war. He should have known better."

Slowly, oozing and wheezing, Pestilence made his way to the bed, sinking down onto the mattress with a contented sigh.

"Speaking of which, when do we get to see our beloved bony brothers again?" Pestilence asked.

War had wandered over to the ruined flat screen TV. The screen now had a jagged crack running from one corner to the other. Poor thing hadn't stood much of a chance against Mrs. Preston's head. Mind you, neither had Mrs. Preston's head.

"Famine is on his way. You know it takes him forever to get anywhere; 'Oh I have to eat first! Feed meee,'" War rolled his eyes. "As for Death, Lucifer is saving him for last. I think the devil is a bit scared of him."

Pestilence shifted, feeling an abscess burst along the inside of his thigh. "He should be. That brat is messing with powers beyond him."

War laughed, winking at his fellow horseman as he turned away from the ruined TV. "Yeah I'd like to see you say that to his face. Don't kid yourself Pestilence, Lucifer isn't just an angel with an attitude problem anymore. He grew up and became something much  _worse_."

Finding it too wearying to even sit, Pestilence flopped onto his back, gazing up at the same spot War had been staring at only minutes before. "You know, that's what I don't get. All this, and for what? What does this have to do with the Winchesters?"

War chuckled, shaking his head as he walked towards the bed. "Oh it's not the Winchesters per say, though I know Lucifer is still counting on snagging one as a meat suit. No," War leaned over Pestilence, winking conspiratorially, "It's that pet angel of theirs."

"What the hell does Lucifer need with  _him_?" Pestilence asked. "If he wants an angel, just ask that bitch Raphael for one. She'd probably  _giftwrap_  it for the prodigal dark son."

War looked down at him pointedly, one eyebrow arched.

"Oh yeah like I know. After all, Lucifer and I are best buds, we stay up late eating ice cream and braiding each other's hair while we talk about how  _icky_  boys are," War said sarcastically.

Pestilence managed a watery glare. "Don't get cute with me, War. You're the idiot who let those humans take your ring."

Sulkily, War pulled away, crossing his arms.

"So I got carried away having a good time. Sue me," he muttered. "Lucifer is summoning us but not ordering us to  _do_ anything but play nurse to those damn Winchesters. Excuse me for getting a bit carried away."

Pestilence rubbed his watery eyes. "Now because of your  _'fun'_  we're on lockdown. No playtime for anyone now. Shame. I so  _dearly_  wanted to play with some of those new vaccines humans have developed."

War kicked at the maid's body moodily. "Just wait till Death is summoned," he growled. "Then we'll see about  _playtime_."

 

* * *

 

"So...we wait around for this demon to get back to us? Seems kinda shady."

"Not much else we  _can_  do."

Ellen frowned, one manicured nail tapping Bobby's desk thoughtfully. Jo was perched on the desk next to her, eyes trained on War's ring.

"So  _that's_  our master plan? Wait around for a demon to find out where Lucifer is, get said demon to tell us where he is, then go charging in, Colt blazing and hope for the best?" Jo asked, arms crossed.

Bobby snorted, one hand rubbing his forehead beneath the rim of his cap as he leant against the wall. "Sounds so easy when you put it that way."

Over on the ragged old couch, Dean shrugged. "That's pretty much the plan, yeah."

Ellen bit her lip, finger pausing its steady staccato beat. "No other allies then?"

Gabriel snorted, pushing away from the wall where he had been leaning beside Castiel. "You're looking at the only angels who  _don't_ want the apocalypse."

Sam looked over at the archangel, sighing dramatically. "Well, we're screwed then. Better pack it in now."

"Oh, ha ha.  _Hilarious._ "

Ellen reached out to touch Jo's arm lightly, and her daughter smiled down at her. "Well I gotta admit it's not much but…I've heard worse. How 'bout you hun?"

The pretty blonde shrugged. "Not like I had a whole lot planned anyways."

Ellen slapped her daughter lightly on the arm, smiling. "Me neither kid. Alright, we're in. Been a while since I've been in a good fight."

Dean stiffened at that, eyes hardening. "No. It's too dangerous. You want to help? Fine. But you guys stay here. Help us research. I'm not about to put you in harm's way on a plan that might not even work."

The two Harvelle women cast amused glances at each other.

"Hey Mom, I think Dean just tried to tell us to do something," Jo tittered. Ellen grinned.

"It's as if he doesn't know us!"

Dean scowled at the two; his arms crossed and shoulders a rigid tight line. "I'm serious," he said stubbornly, "This isn't your fight-"

"I'm going to stop you right there kid," Ellen interrupted. "I appreciate the whole 'manly man' routine but  _can it_. This is just as much our fight as yours. This is the  _apocalypse._  This is everyone's fight. Ours, yours,  _theirs_ -" She nodded towards the two angels, "-everyone. So we're with you."

"To the end," Jo said firmly. "We're fighting, so deal with it."

Dean cast an exasperated look over at Booby, who merely chuckled and shook his head.

"Told ya. Can't say no to a Harvelle woman."

Jo nodded once, hair bouncing. "Damn straight."

Ellen stood, chair scraping along the floor. "Alright. So that's settled. We're in this for the long haul." She shot a glance over at Bobby, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "You still got that bottle of whiskey hidden away old man? I think we could all use drink right about now."

 

* * *

 

One drink turned into several, and several turned into  _a lot_. It was late evening now, and Dean tried to ignore the girlish giggles coming from the kitchen as he buried himself in old dusty texts. Gabriel and Castiel had joined the Harvelle's several hours ago, and now and then Dean could hear Gabriel snap his fingers. Jo and Ellen would usually 'oooo' or 'ahhhh' after that, so Dean figured the archangel was keeping them stocked with booze. Great.

Sam had given up trying to read about a half hour ago; now and then he'd steal a longing glance towards the kitchen, but all Dean had to do was glare, and with a heavy sigh, the younger Winchester stayed put. For the past five minutes however he had been meticulously folding a tiny square of paper. Apparently now finished with it, he held up admiringly for a moment.

Then flicked it at Dean's head.

With a growl, Dean slammed his book shut.

"Fine. I guess we can call it quits. Not like we're trying to figure out how to stop the apocalypse or anything."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Oh lighten up. I don't think Satan is going to manage to end everything if we take one night off. Come on Dean."

There was another round of ooing and aahing, and Sam glanced curiously behind him.

Dean threw his hands up in the air, pushing away from the desk and standing. "Fine. Let's go see what all that damn oogling is about."

Expecting a mountain of empty bottles, or every surface covered in chocolate, Dean was not prepared for what really greeted him when he strode into the kitchen.

A very forlorn looking Cas greeted him, clad in what Dean could only describe as  _latex._  Dean could only stop and stare, mouth hanging open in shock. The angel sighed wearily, the latex creaking.

"Save me," he said morosely.

Ellen and Jo giggled together, clinking two beer bottles together.

"Good one mom. My turn!" Jo slapped a hand down on the table, startling Dean enough to force his eyes away to stare in shocked horror at the three at the table. Jo scrunched her nose thoughtfully, before squeaking in delight, eyes twinkling.

"Got it! A Cowboy!"

Gabriel smirked and Castiel groaned, hanging his head.

"Chaps huh? I like it!" the archangel smirked, snapping his fingers. Suddenly the latex was gone and Cas was dressed in a very tight Levi jeans with brown leather chaps, cowboy boots and hat, and a suede top. Ellen cackled triumphantly, taking a swig from her bottle.

"Damn boy. You got an ass that would make angels weep. Oh wait-"

"They do!" Gabriel crowed, and that started off another round of cackling from all three, Jo pounding the table as tears started to stream down her cheeks.

Dean felt a headache coming on. So this is what they'd been up to? Torturing Cas?

Sam was stifling a chuckle behind his hand as he joined his brother. "So this is what all the ooing is about? Playing dress up with Cas?" he asked.

Ellen peered blearily over. "Oh this? We only just thought of this. Jo mentioned that his suit must be uncomfort…uncomfortable, so Gabriel…" She waved her hands around. "Poofed him something else."

Dean risked a look at the angel. Cas seemed pretty forlorn but not entirely upset about the whole thing; he was picking curiously at the cowboy hat now nestled on his head. Dean found himself really  _looking_  then. It was so weird seeing Cas without his usual get-up; it just…didn't look like him. Dean looked a bit lower.

Damn. Ellen was right. Cas  _did_ have a nice ass.

His face was suddenly very hot and Dean's eyes skittered back to the three at the table; cheeks red.

Gabriel was looking at him thoughtfully, and Dean's eyes widened.  _Shit mind reader-_

"How about something different?" the archangel announced. "Something…familiar."

With a snap, Cas was dressed as a….well, a Winchester.

He wore comfy worn-in jeans; a black t-shirt underneath a buttoned up, blue plaid shirt.  _Oh god, is that…a Metallica shirt?_ Sure enough, Dean could see the white outline of a very familiar logo on the t-shirt, just peeking from beneath the buttoned plaid. A very worn, very  _familiar t-_ shirt _._

 _Dean's_ t-shirt.

 _Gabriel you dickwad!_ Dean thought darkly at the smug looking angel as his cheeks went even redder. The blue plaid shirt made Cas's eyes stand out even more, and teamed with his pale skin and dark hair…

The Harvelle's seemed to agree, both leaning forward to oogle shamelessly.

"Boy oh boy, did it get hot in here all of a sudden?" Ellen fanned herself with a hand.

Jo licked her lips. "Move over Dean, there's a new pretty boy in town."

That snapped Dean's attention away from the nervous looking Cas, and he glared at the two women.

"Hey! I am not, and never have been,  _pretty,_ " he growled.

" _Yes you are_!" A chorus of voices echoed back at him. Dean was pretty sure he heard Sam in there too, and turned to glare at his unrepentant brother.

Castiel picked nervously at the shirt.

"This…this pleases you?" he asked the women. Ellen wolf whistled at him.

"Pleases us very much. Don't it Jo?" she elbowed her daughter, who nodded.

"Does it please you Dean?" Gabriel asked suddenly, one eyebrow cocked.

_Shit._

Cas turned to him, eyes hopeful, fingers smoothing down the front of his jeans self-consciously.

Dean's mouth opened and closed, doing his best goldfish impression as he found everyone's attention on him.

_Gabriel, you GIGANTIC dick._

"It's fine," he finally said gruffly, averting his eyes to look at the floor. "Whatever." There we go, safe response.

He missed the crestfallen hurt in Cas's eyes that was quickly masked, before the angel turned back to his brother.

"I would like my normal clothes back now, please."

Gabriel shrugged.

"No can do bro, you're stuck with these ones." Ellen and Jo dissolved back into giggles at Cas's look of horror.

Dean glared over at the archangel. "You've had your fun. Give them back."

Gabriel sighed. "Fine. But not the suit. Looks too damn uncomfortable." He snapped his fingers, and Cas was wearing his trench coat and a darker pair of tailored jeans. Dean's shirt had been replaced with a loose white shirt. "There. Happy?"

Cas nodded, hands smoothing down his new clothes and Dean wondered if he went up to his duffel if he'd find that Metallica shirt on top. If it'd smell like Cas.

Gabriel was looking at him again, and Dean's eyes widened. He turned away hurriedly.

"Come on Sam," He ground. "Back to research."

Sam noisily protested as his brother practically shoved him back into the study.

"But we only just got there..."

"Shut up," Dean shoved a book in his hands. "Less talk, more reading."


	4. Chapter 4

It was the sound of Sam's foot thudding to the floor that woke Dean up.

With a disgruntled grunt, the hunter jerked his head up, blinking in the bright sunlight that streamed into the small study, stinging his eyes. It took a moment to figure out where he was, and Dean groaned, rubbing a hand through his short hair.  _Must have fallen asleep…_  He glanced down and grimaced.  _Great._ A small pool of drool had accumulated beneath him and he sighed, scrubbing his sticky cheek and the desk with the sleeve of his shirt.

Over on the short couch Bobby generally used to pile old books on, Sam had somehow managed to fit his hulking form. He had tucked himself into a fetal position, one leg practically tucked against his chest, but the other had shifted in his sleep; slipping off the couch and causing the thud that had woken Dean up.

Gabriel was slumped nearby; back pressed against the couch legs and head tilted back, mouth wide and snoring. His hair tickled Sam's nose with each inhale, and the younger Winchester grunted in his sleep, nose twitching. His leg had narrowly missed the archangel, just brushing alongside the angel's side. As Dean watched, Sam snuffled, kicking his foot out and catching Gabriel on the thigh.

Dean winced, expecting Gabriel to wake up and the two to have a go at each other, but the archangel merely grunted, not waking as he shifted around. The years of sharing rooms and sometimes beds, had made the Winchesters aware of things even while asleep, and Sam seemed aware he had kicked someone.

He reached out with one hand, patting the air until he found Gabriel's head. Dean bit his lip, repressing a snicker as Sam sighed, stroking Gabriel's hair apologetically, probably in sleep thinking it was Dean and not an archangel. Gabriel sighed something, turning his face further into the touch.

Oh man what he would give for a camera right about now.

Dean shook his head wryly, standing on numb legs. He winced at the soreness in his muscles from sleeping stooped over at an angle, and slowly hobbled his way over to the living room.

A quick glance into the room and Dean had to press a fist to his mouth to stifle another laugh.

On the couch were Jo and Ellen. Ellen was sprawled loosely, arms flung out and Jo's head nestled on her mother's lap; blonde hair strewn in a tangled mess, arm slung over her eyes. Jo was cuddling a beer bottle.

But it wasn't those two that had Dean chuckling.

Castiel was lying on the floor; face down. It seemed he had managed to convince Gabriel to return his usual clothing; the suit outfit was back, though horribly askew. The suit coat was half on one arm, and off the other; the shirt underneath wrinkled and no longer tucked into the black dress trousers. Dean couldn't remember how late the group kept drinking, but it must have been pretty late, judging by the devastation.

Cas's blue tie was wrapped around his head, one shoe was missing and his trench coat had been flung over the back of the couch. As Dean watched, the angel snuffled something in his sleep, rubbing his cheek against the carpet kittenishly, as he tried to curl into a smaller ball. His shirt sleeves had been rolled up sloppily, and Dean could see goose bumps forming along the pale skin.

The hunter sobered slightly at that. Mortal Cas wasn't something he'd ever wanted to see again, no thanks to Zachariah, and an old familiar guilt clawed at his insides.

Shaking his head, Dean retrieved the wayward trench coat. Carefully he covered the twitching Castiel with it, smiling as the angel curled into it happily, sighing.

"Like a damn cat," he muttered lowly, eyes crinkling with affection. Castiel merely murmured contentedly, tugging the coat higher over his head in an effort to block out the sun.

A low groan signaled Ellen had awoken, and Dean straightened, grinning over at the woman as she blinked blearily at him. Sensing her mother's movement, Jo stirred as well, lowering her arm enough to blink in the sun, and promptly retreat back under it with a dismayed yelp.

"Had a bit much last night?" Dean asked sweetly. He narrowly avoided the pillow Ellen threw at him.

"Shut it smartass," Ellen winced, slumping back against the couch as she closed her eyes. "Oh God. I am never drinking again."

There was a chuckle, and Dean turned to see Gabriel enter, looking none the worse for wear. He winked over at Ellen and the groaning Jo. "At least until 6pm right?"

Ellen smiled, massaging her temples as she closed her eyes. "Remind me to never try and drink an archangel under the table. 'Aint gonna work."

Gabriel smirked, snapping his fingers. Both women were suddenly blinking, hangovers gone. "Damn straight. But at least we can clean up after ourselves."

The talking finally woke up Castiel, and the angel cautiously poked his head out from his trench coat blanket, hair sticking up at crazy angles. Dean grinned down at him as the angel blearily tugged the tie from his head, blinking in confusion.

"Morning Sunshine. Sleep well?"

Castiel scowled up at him, slowly rolling into a sitting position. "I…believe so." He pressed a hand to his head, wincing. "My head…"

Gabriel swept past Dean, reaching out his hand to thread his fingers through Castiel's unruly hair. "You never were much of a morning person kiddo," he said fondly.

Dean's stomach lurched suddenly, catching him by surprise. Something bristled and snarled, hissing as the archangel slowly combed the stubborn inky threads back into submission.

_Don't touch him, he's_ _**mine** _ _, no touch…_

His train of thought was luckily derailed as Bobby barreled down the stairs. The bristling hissing retreated back to the dark corners of his mind, and Dean was instantly on alert, jealousy temporarily forgotten.

"Bobby? You ok?" he demanded. Sam emerged from the study, wiping his eyes hurriedly.

"Trouble?" he asked.

Bobby headed straight to the window, flicking the curtain aside. He already had a shotgun in one hand, and Dean had to admire the older hunter for being so prepared. Sometimes he forgot how badass Bobby could be.

"Think so," Bobby said lowly. "Unless someone was expecting company."

As if in an old Scooby Doo cartoon, everyone hurried to the window, jostling for a place to look out. Jo actually shoved Sam out of the way to peer out, wiping at the moisture that had gathered there, as he glared at her.

There, along the fence of Bobby's junkyard, stood a dark-clad figure. A man by the look of it, wearing all black. Ellen arched an eyebrow.

"Judgin' by the way he's toeing those wards of yours, a demon."

Bobby snorted. "Must be dumber than a box o' rocks to just stand there, brazen as you please."

Gabriel looked grim as he pulled away from the window.

"It's Crowley."

Sam peered over Jo's head, eyes wide. "The demon who gave you the Colt? What's he want?"

Gabriel headed towards the door. "Only one reason he'd come here. He's found the devil."

 

* * *

 

Crowley watched the group approach, shoving his hands into his pockets. There was a bruise on his left cheek, and a graze near his temple but otherwise he looked the same as he did when Castiel had seen him last. Arrogant, cocky. _Intensely_  dislikeable.

Bobby had a shotgun in front of him, leveled at the demon, (" _I aint greetin' a demon without a firearm, you idjit!"_  he had shouted when Gabriel had attempted to dissuade him) and Dean and Sam were likewise armed; guns with salt rounds. The group paused just short of the fence, behind the wards Bobby had painted.

Crowley looked bemused. "This is the greeting I get? I hope you don't greet all guests that come a'calling that way."

Castiel tried to ignore the pounding in his head. "Speak then. You bring news I hope."

The demon tsked lightly. " _Manners,_  Castiel. Aren't you going to introduce me to your pets? I've heard so  _much_  about them." He turned to the humans, eyeing the Winchester's up and down. "Sadly, I think most of it was exaggerated."

Dean bristled. "Well you've probably heard what we do with demons," he growled. "I'll exorcise you before you can  _blink_  you evil son-of-a-"

"Down boy," Crowley interrupted. "I have a deal with the angels. Can't hurt a hair on your pretty little head even if I wanted to!" He snorted, looking over at Sam. "Besides, I'd have a hell of a time reaching yours, wouldn't I Moose?"

Gabriel held a hand up placatingly as Sam blustered. "Alright, everyone just relax. Crowley is a dick, but he's an informed dick." He crossed his arms, looking at the demon pointedly. "So _inform_  us."

Crowley chortled. "Right you are. But, before I do, mind letting me in? Bit drafty out here."

Bobby hefted his shotgun up at that, face thunderous. "Hell no. I aint lettin' no demon in my house. You say your piece then disappear off my property."

Crowley arched an eyebrow at the human before glancing over at Gabriel. "And this handsome fellow would be?"

"Bobby Singer," Bobby growled. "And you best remember that."

"Oh I will darling," Crowley smirked. "But to be perfectly honest with you, I can't  _go_  anywhere."

Sam was scowling at the demon, and his frown only deepened. "What?"

Ignoring him, Crowley turned to the angels. "Look, I'm in a spot of bother. You weren't the only ones after the Colt. A group of demons turned up at my house a little while after you lot left. Told you this would backfire."

Dean crossed his arms. "So what? Like we should care."

Crowley's cool façade slipped then, and the demon's eyes flashed, his teeth bared as he snarled.

"The little shits burnt down my HOUSE!" he bellowed. "They ate my  _tailor_! Do you know how hard it is to find a decent tailor? Harder than trying to pry apart a nun's legs!"

Halting himself, the demon cleared his throat, smoothing his hands down the front of his coat. "I had to up sticks pretty quickly. I was lucky to get away with my  _life_."

"Oh cry me a river," Bobby drawled and Crowley glared over at him.

"It's time to make good on our deal." The demon turned back to the angels. "I'm on a wanted list thanks to helping you two. Scary people like I said." Crowley shrugged his shoulders. "You take me in; I'll tell you where Lucifer is. Luckily I got that info out of one of the little bastards before he…  _left_  this plain of existence."

Dean rolled his eyes, shooting an amused look at Sam. "Take you in? Yeah like  _that'll_  ever happen."

There was a pointed silence as the demon glanced over at the angels, and Dean felt his stomach drop. "Cas?"

The angel sighed heavily, one hand massaging his temple wearily. "We did make a deal Dean."

"And who's stupid idea was that?" Bobby demanded, gun still aimed at Crowley.

Gabriel was unrepentant. "I stand by it. Let him in."

"You can't be serious!" Sam shook his head, eyes disbelieving.

"I'm deadly serious," All three humans were taken aback at the steely determination in the archangel's eyes. "You want to defeat the devil? Let him in. He's bound by contract to not hurt anyone, and I'll make sure of that."

"But-"

Crowley smirked. "You heard the man. Let me in."

For a moment no-one moved, all staring at each other. Then, Bobby slowly dropped his shotgun, scowling and pointing one finger angrily at the demon.

"Fine. But you're stayin' inside a devil's trap until I figure out what to do with you. I aint taking no risks."

Crowley groaned. "Well that sounds-" the demon trailed off at Gabriel's dark look. "-simply  _wonderful,_  I'm sure."

 

* * *

 

Bobby ended up putting the protesting demon in the panic room.

"Oh come  _on_. This is like a prison!" Crowley wrinkled his nose. "And it smells funny."

Dean snorted, earning himself a glare from the indignant demon. "Says the guy that reeks of sulfur."

"Bite me."

"Ladies!" The angels were the only ones who actually dared be in the same room as the demon, and Gabriel reclined in the simple wooden chair by the desk, leaning back on two legs precariously.

Crowley sighed heavily, heading towards the simple bed to sit down. "Fine. It's not the Ritz, but it'll do for now." He studied the huge devil trap on the ceiling. "Love what you've done with the place. You simply  _must_ give me the name of your decorator."

Ignoring him, Castiel leant against the wall by the open doorway where the humans stood.

"You found the devil then," he said.

Crowley rolled his eyes. "Straight to business then. Yes. Well I didn't find  _him_  per say, but I found out where he  _is_."

Gabriel was peering over at the poster of Bo Derek on one wall, eyebrows arching appraisingly. He looked over his shoulder at the demon's words. "Great. Where?"

Crowley huffed. "No 'thank you Crowley? Or good job?' Huh. My tailor died for you, you know."

Sensing the angel's patience was running thin as he was merely glared at pointedly, Crowley's shoulders sagged in defeat. "Missouri. He's in Missouri ok? But that's not the exciting part."

Sam frowned, peering over Dean's head over at the demon. "The exciting part?"

Crowley tapped his nose. "See, the devil may be hanging out there, but he's in that neck of the woods for a reason. He's going to summon Death."

There was a loud clank as Gabriel dropped the chair back onto all four legs. "Death?"

"Yep. Devil already has the other three horsemen, now it's time for the last one. The big D."

Bobby rubbed his eyes tiredly. "That can't mean anythin' good."

Castiel agreed with him. "We still don't understand what role the horsemen have to play in this. But Death's addition is... worrisome."

Crowley tapped a foot impatiently. "Yeah yeah that's all dandy, but don't you blockheads see? The devil can't just up and call Death on the phone, you know. It takes rituals and preparations, painstaking work you have to time  _just so_."

At the blank looks aimed at him, Crowley sighed irritably. "I think I picked the wrong side. You can  _stop him_ , you morons. Lucifer can't summon Death until there's a full moon. If you can get to Missouri and shoot him before he can do the ritual-"

"We end it before Death is even summoned," Dean finished. "Let me guess, there's a full moon tomorrow right?"

"Day after tomorrow," the demon replied. "Still doable. So you go to Missouri, kill the devil, everyone goes home and we can all congratulate ourselves on a job well done yeah?"

Bobby glared over at him. "And we should trust you  _why_?"

"Because if he deceives us, his soul is forfeit," Castiel replied. "He speaks truly."

Gabriel was frowning. "It sounds almost too good to be true."

"I shouldn't think so," Crowley said. "The place is  _crawling_ with demons. You'll be lucky to get through. In fact you probably won't."

Sam snorted, nudging his brother with an arm. "Nothing like a little bit of optimism."

Dean nodded back. "But we got angels on our team. Evens the odds a bit huh?" He looked over at Castiel. "All Cas has to is glare at them and they go up in flames."

Said glare was aimed in his direction.

Gabriel stood, the chair scraping along the concrete floor and drawing everyone's attention. His eyes were serious. "Castiel isn't going."

The room fell silent as Castiel pushed away from the wall, eyes blazing and jaw set. "What do you mean I'm not going? I most certainly  _am_."

Sam glanced behind him nervously. "Oh gee I um…left a…pie. In the oven. I'm gonna go…get it." He started to shuffle away.

"Let me help you with that," Bobby said, hurrying after him. Only Dean remained in the doorway, watching the two angels glare each other down. Even Crowley pretended to be somewhere else, gazing at the ceiling and humming.

"I mean it Castiel. You need to stay here and guard the ring. Lucifer wants it back. I'm not going to leave it just lying around," Gabriel ground.

"Then we'll take it with us," Castiel growled. "I am  _going._  I'm not leaving Dean and Sam to fight this on their own."

"They won't be. I'll be there."

Dean felt the air shift, and would bet money that there was a hell of a lot of angel wing posturing going on that he couldn't see. It was like watching two cats hiss at each other, and for some reason, he just couldn't look away.

"You're not telling me something!" Castiel accused. "You aren't worried about War's ring. You're  _hiding_  something from me."

Gabriel seemed to give slightly at that, taking a step back. "I need you to trust me Castiel. What about Jo and Ellen? If they're staying here they need someone to protect them. The house is vulnerable. And Lucifer is powerful."

"Don't treat me like a child!" Castiel yelled. "I am not a fledgling in need of your protection anymore Gabriel! I am going to  _fight_."

 _Fledgling?_ Dean didn't know that word. But this fight was starting to get personal, he should really leave.

Any minute now.

Right.

"I am well aware of that!" Gabriel yelled back. "But you can't  _fight this_. I need you to trust me Castiel, I need you to stay safe and  _away_ from Lucifer!"

Castiel's hands had bunched into bloodless fists. "So I cower here whilst Dean puts himself in danger? How is that any better?"

Gabriel's voice lowered slightly, and Dean tried to appear inconspicuous as he ducked to the side to hide behind the wall; out of sight. "I know you care about him a great deal. I will protect him with my _life_ Castiel; believe me when I say that. I'll protect  _all_ of them, but Lucifer is far more powerful than I am. If Lucifer were to…"

Gabriel swallowed heavily, and Dean could feel the mood shift in the room. "I won't lose you. If you come and fight the devil, I'll be so blinded in my concern for you, I won't be able to protect the humans. Is that what you want?"

There was a brief silence. "I know you're lying to me Gabriel," Cas's voice was low. "You are hiding something from me. There is another reason you don't wish for me to go."

Dean heard shuffling. "I understand how you feel, but I  _need_  you to listen to me. To trust me. I know that's a lot for me to ask considering but…there is so much at stake here little brother. Do you understand that?"

Another short silence. Dean could practically  _hear_  Cas's glare. "Yes."

"He isn't the brother we remember Castiel. Lucifer is…something else now. Something terrible. He can't be allowed to regain War's ring, no matter what. I don't know what his plans for it are but…they can't be good. That's why you need to stay here. To guard it."

There was a heavy sigh.

"I still don't believe you completely Gabriel, but I…understand."

Dean could hear the relief in Gabriel's voice. "Do you? Really?"

"Yes. I will…I will  _stay._ "  _Wow did Cas sound bitter._  "But you must give me your word that you will do  _everything_  in your power to keep Dean and Sam Winchester safe. No tricks, no games. You will keep them  _safe_. _"_

"You have my word. I swear on God, his holy, absent self, that I will protect the Winchesters."

"That's blasphemy Gabriel."

"Dully noted."

Dean risked a glance around the corner of the wall through the doorway and was relieved to see both angels smiling uncertainly at each other. Crowley had slunk to the floor near the bed, the demon trying to appear as inconspicuous as possible, lying flat on the floor and attempting to wriggle to safety under the steel frame. Dean wondered if demons could see angels' wings, if he saw all that posturing.

"There's something else I need to do. Something you  _can_ come with me for, if you like," Gabriel offered tentatively.

Castiel cocked his head to the side and Dean felt his stomach flip at the familiar action. "Really. And what would that be?"

Gabriel smirked, crossing his arms and arching an eyebrow. "Thought I'd pay a visit to my other side of the family. See if I can't muster up some cavalry."

Castiel frowned. "I don't understand."

Gabriel grinned, winking roguishly. "We're going to Asgard kiddo. Might wanna dress warm."


	5. Chapter 5

Asgard was not quite as beautiful as he had been expecting.

The wind howled through the steep snowy pass; ripping at their clothes and hair as the two angels struggled their way through the thigh deep snow that crunched underfoot. Castiel pulled his trench coat tighter around him, tucking his face into the collar, trying to avoid the stinging snow. The blizzard that had descended on them as soon as they landed was heavy; he could barely see a few feet in front of him, trusting his brother to know where they were going.

Gabriel shook his leg clear, grimacing. "I knew there was a reason I don't come here often. I hate snow."

Castiel blinked hard, his cheeks stinging as the snow and wind raked at him. There, just about visible in the darkness, flickered a flame. As the two neared, it showed itself to be a torch, the flame dancing in the wind. Beyond that were more, leading towards some stone steps that sprawled in front of a stone building that was barely visible through the falling snow. Castiel gazed up at it as they approached, noting the elaborate carvings carved into its unforgiving face.

"Gabriel where are we? What is this building?" he frowned over at his brother. "I must admit my knowledge of Norse mythology is…limited."

Two huge heavy wooden doors rose in front of them, set in the grey stone and both adorned with a heavy brass ring. Gabriel patted the stone wall affectionately.

"This is Hildskjalf. Odin's throne room." He rapped his knuckles across the wooden door lightly. "Old coot splits his time doing kingly things here and getting sloshed over in Valhalla."

Castiel eyed the huge doors warily. "And what exactly are we doing here?"

Gabriel sighed. "We're going up against Lucifer, Castiel. I don't know if you remember, but last time we fought against him, we at least had an army at our backs. Now what do we have? Some humans and a bitchy crossroads demon. It's not enough, not by  _far_."

Castiel brushed the snow from his shoulders, shaking his legs. "And you believe your Norse deities will help us?"

"No," Gabriel said bluntly, turning back towards the huge door and grasping one of the brass rings. "In fact we'll be lucky if they don't try and kill us."

Castiel could only stare at the back of his brother's head as the archangel pulled the huge door open. "How...comforting."

Gabriel shot him a cocky smile over his shoulder. "But it's worth a shot. Just…let me do the talking ok?"

 

* * *

 

The great hall of Hildsjalf was loud and crowded. Everywhere, lower level Nordic deities squabbled and laughed. Some were drinking, others eating, and even more just standing and shouting.

Castiel swallowed heavily, falling in step behind Gabriel as they moved inside; the heavy doors swinging shut behind them. A few curious glances were thrown their way, but most of the deities were too occupied with their own business. Most of the men were dressed in furs and skins, some in elaborate looking armor; they looked very much like the Vikings of long ago. Metal glinted dully in the fire light of the torches that lined the walls, the air smoky and thick. Castiel could see huge battleaxes, swords and shields, leant up against the long oak tables that dominated the room, and was painfully aware of how unarmed he was.

The women wore either grand silk and cloth robes, their long hair braided as they moved amongst the rowdy men. Some even wore…pretty much nothing at all. Castiel was almost certain he spotted a few couples in mid-coitus and averted his eyes, blushing slightly.

Vikings indeed.

At the end of the room sat Odin, an intimidating presence. A large silver bearded man with an eye patch, he was clothed in the pelt of a large bear of some sort, the skull of which rested on one shoulder. He sat on a throne that seemed made out of some large creature's bones, and decorated with gold and silver.

"Ice Giant bones," Gabriel muttered out of the side of his mouth. Castiel didn't know how large or powerful an Ice giant was, but it was probably more powerful than him. His uneasiness grew.

Two large wolves dozed at Odin's feet, ears flicking back and forth at the commotion around them. Two ravens scrapped nearby, fighting over a meaty bone, as a beautiful blonde woman watched them, sat beside Odin. She was clad in a simple red gown, her wheat blonde hair gracefully braided and pinned carefully in place with various flowers and brooches. On her brow sat a delicate circlet of silver with a single red gem.

"Frigg, Odin's wife," Gabriel whispered. "Don't piss her off."

Odin murmured something to his wife, chuckling at the ravens as she smiled serenely back at him. She passed him a drink, and Odin swigged it happily, drinking the mead from a… _dear God…_ human skull. Castiel pulled the neck of his tie nervously.

The deity glanced up as the two approached the throne, and his one eye widened.

"Loki!" he bellowed, pounding his fist down on the arm of his throne and startling the wolves at his feet into wakefulness. "Damn boy, it's been too long!"

The shouting and revelries stopped completely, the hall lapsing into silence only occasionally broken by a few excited whispers. Odin waved them forward with a smile, eye crinkling as the two wolves rose to their paws.

"Well don't just stand there boy! Come give your old man a proper greeting!"

The wolves bounded forward, tongues lolling as they pranced around Gabriel's feet, barking happily.

Gabriel smiled weakly, patting the wolves. "Geri, Freki," he acknowledged.

The ravens flapped and cawed angrily, hurt at being left out. Gabriel bowed his head to them, smiling.

"And you too Huginn. Muninn." Satisfied, the ravens quieted, perching along the top of the throne on the huge skull of the long dead Ice Giant king, Laufey.

Odin stood, arms opened wide as he swept Gabriel into a bone crushing hug.

"Never thought I'd see the day when I was glad to see your Trickster face, boy!" he laughed, slapping the archangel hard on the back as he released him, causing Gabriel to flinch. "Your brother Thor grows bored and lazy with the Asgard monsters and wenches; he needs to be tricked back into shape!"

Gabriel took a step back, rubbing the back of his neck. "Aye Father. That I can believe."

Castiel tried not to look too surprised at the shift in his brother's demeanor. His brother had so many faces, this was but one of them. He had a feeling there were many more he had yet to witness.

Odin frowned, eyeing Gabriel up and down. "You are dressed so strangely Loki. What happened to your armor?"

Gabriel's fingers were fiddling nervously with the sleeve of his coat. "I have been amongst man. I needed to…blend in."

Odin snorted, moving back to sit on his throne. "I'll admit I don't know what you see in them Loki. Very well. What brings you home? Not that we complain!"

There was an answering cheer from the deities lined along the tables, and Castiel flinched at the loud sound. Odin finally noticed him then, and the greying deity arched an eyebrow at him.

"What's this? You bring a new concubine home?" Odin relaxed back in his seat, winking at his wife. "He is much prettier than the last one."

There were guffaws behind him, and Castiel scowled. Concentrating, he stretched out his wings, manifesting them and shaking them free of snow. The chuckles behind him abruptly died off, and Odin sat up straighter, suddenly serious.

"You bring such a creature to my hall?" he demanded. "By Gungnir boy, what are you thinking?"

Gabriel set his jaw firmly, his nervous energy bleeding into steely determination. "War is coming Odin. Lucifer has risen."

There were worried whispers in the hall.

"Silence!" Odin roared, and the hall lapsed back into a breathless silence. Frigg looked worried as she watched her husband rise from his throne.

Odin's voice was low and firm. "It is no concern of ours, Loki. Let the angels have their war. It is not our Ragnarök."

Castiel couldn't stay quiet any longer. Ignoring Gabriel's protests, he stepped around his brother, wings twitching irritably.

"But it  _is_  great King," he said as respectfully as he could manage. "Lucifer will destroy mankind. He will destroy  _everything_ , including your Asgard and great halls."

Odin glared at him, the wolves snarling and growling at his feet, teeth bared.

"You forget yourself little angel," he said dangerously. "I am Odin, God of the Northern Wastes! Lucifer has no power here, and I will not be told how to run my domain by a lowly _pigeon._ "

"Then why do you hide here?" Castiel challenged, frustration making his wings jerk, and voice shake. "If you do not fear him, why have you fled to your palaces and halls? Why do you not  _fight_ against him?"

A spear materialized in Odin's grasp, and the sound of unsheathing metal filled the hall as the other Nords prepared themselves for a fight.

Odin was shaking, face red and angry, as he gripped his spear in a bloodless fist.

"You come to my hall and dare say such things to me?" he roared. "I will not stand for it!"

With a bellow he started forward, the other deities roaring as they vaulted over tables and rushed to their leader's aid. Castiel spun, wings arcing and fists raised, expecting a hard fight.

He found none.

Instead a great force pushed the oncoming deities down to the floor, sending their weapons clattering along the wooden floor. A barrier of mottled brown wings blocked Odin's oncoming charge, and the deity backed up, eye wide as he stared at Gabriel. The archangel stood in front of Castiel, wings spread and face thunderous.

"Sit. Down," Gabriel growled.

Odin sank down dumbly onto his throne. Even the wolves at his feet seemed shocked; staring with wide amber eyes as they hastily sank back onto their haunches.

Slowly Gabriel folded his wings back into a more relaxed pose.

"You  _will_ stand for me Odin," he said firmly. "What my brother Castiel says is true. Lucifer has risen. He will destroy the world, including you. I came to seek an alliance against him."

Odin was still staring, the spear falling from his hand to thud against the floor. " _Brother_? Loki what…" he swallowed, eyes trailing disbelievingly over the wings in front of him. "What is this trickery?"

Gabriel shook his head, wings slumping slightly. "This is no trick Odin. Many years ago I came to you, lost and broken. I….I convinced you I was your son, and fashioned the name Loki for myself."

Gabriel's eyes were sad, as Odin just stared at him in disbelief.

"I lied. And I'm sorry for that. But you must believe me when I say I need your help."

Slowly, a dawning realization filled his one eye, and the deity glanced away. Frigg was the one who stood then, hands folded primly in front of her. Her blue eyes were cool as she looked at the two angels in front of her.

"You are not a Norse God," she said. "You have no place here, and I must ask you to leave."

Gabriel glanced at her briefly, before looking back at Odin, who had sunk his head into his hands.

"My true name is Gabriel," he said softly. "I am an archangel. I know what happens when you ignore Lucifer and just hope he goes away. He won't. You have to  _fight_."

Odin jerked up, face drawn in a snarl. "I will do no such thing!" he bellowed. "You dare come here and tell me this now? Be gone creature!"

Gabriel took a step forward, ignoring the wolves that had begun snarling again. "I was your son for many years Odin. That has not changed."

Odin shook his head, avoiding Gabriel's eyes. "My son is  _dead_. Leave angel, before my patience runs thin and I run you through."

Castiel was taken aback as Gabriel's wings bristled, fanning out to their full span. Several deities ducked out of the way, cowering away from the power the archangel exuded.

"You are nothing but old relics, hiding away in your old crumbling halls!" Gabriel spat angrily. "You will all die, because you are  _cowards_."

The wolves slunk away to hide behind the throne, tails tucked behind their legs. The ravens sat either side of Odin's slumped shoulders, puffed and cawing angrily at the archangel. Gabriel ignored them, eyes blazing.

"I was just like you; I hid and hoped it would go away." He shot a quick look at Castiel. "It took a lot to make me see it, but I did." Gabriel shook his head. "Hiding won't save you. Nothing will unless you stand up against the devil and  _join us_!"

The hall echoed with his words, and Castiel held his breath.

Finally Odin looked up, his one eye lifeless and cold.

"You will leave this place and never return. Loki is dead to me."

 

* * *

 

Castiel blinked as he found himself suddenly back outside the hall in the swirling snow. Gabriel sighed beside him, tucking his wings away and out of sight as he rubbed his forehead wearily.

"That went well," he said wryly.

Castiel shook his head, blinking against the wind. "I apologize, Gabriel. You asked me to stay silent and I didn't. I ruined everything."

Gabriel smiled, clapping a hand on Castiel's shoulder. "Nah you didn't. Odin is as stubborn as he is old. It wouldn't have worked, but at least we can say we tried."

Castiel looked forlornly out into the darkness. "So we're back where we started."

" _Father?_ "

Both angels jumped, whirling around. Out of the swirling mists came a huge black wolf with blazing amber eyes. It padded silently towards them; huge paws allowing it to move on top of the fallen snow easily.

It was a huge creature, easily swamping Castiel in size, and the angel took a step back worriedly. "Gabriel?"

The archangel didn't seem as worried. With a grin, the angel moved forward, grabbing the wolf around its neck playfully.

"Fenrir you old fleabag!" He tugged the thick fur of the wolf's ruff affectionately, and the wolf nuzzled its nose against his cheek, licking his cheek.

" _Father, you have returned,_ " its voice was deep and growling, and it took a moment for Castiel to register what it was saying.

"Father?" he asked incredulously.

Gabriel smiled sheepishly, pulling away from the giant creature. "Um…surprise?"

The wolf crouched low on his front paws, digging gouges into the snow as he playfully nudged Gabriel again. " _You have been absent for many years, Father. Asgard has changed."_

"Aint that the truth," Gabriel sighed. "I um… I came to see Odin about…about the upcoming war."

The great wolf's ears flattened as he paused in his play, white teeth bared in a snarl.

" _You speak of the angels. Yes, Fenrir has heard. The Bright One has risen and seeks to bring about the Christian Ragnar_ _ök."_

"Yeaaaaah….about that…" Gabriel scuffed the snow with his foot nervously. With a roll of his eyes, Castiel stepped forward.

"We are seeking allies to overthrow Lucifer and prevent the apocalypse," he said, trying to ignore the way the huge wolf glanced at him with a hungry expression.

" _Allies?"_ the wolf asked. " _Earthly problems do not concern Odin or Asgard. You will find no allies here."_

Gabriel sighed. "Yeah we found that out."

Castiel cast a sidelong glance at the archangel beside him. "Loki has not been entirely truthful with you Fenrir. I believe he has something to say."

" _Loki? Truthful?"_ Fenrir barked in amusement, the deep sound vibrating in Castiel's chest.  _"You are perhaps not aware of his Trickster ways stranger. It does not surprise me."_

"Oh thanks a lot!" Gabriel grumbled, crossing his arms. "No Christmas present for you this year."

The archangel rolled his eyes at the glare his little brother sent his way. "Ok fine. You'll find out from Odin anyways, as will the rest of the world," he paused worriedly. "Just don't…eat me."

Fenrir sank onto his back haunches in the snow. Sitting, he was still larger than the angels standing. " _I would no such thing Father. You are far too small and bony._ "

Gabriel managed an amused smile. "So funny. Ok well…my name isn't really Loki. In fact, I'm not from Asgard at all really."

Fenrir was still, amber eyes studying the archangel very seriously.

"My real name is Gabriel. I'm a….I'm an angel."

The snow continued to fall in the silence. Fenrir didn't move.

" _Another trick, Father?"_

Gabriel sighed heavily, eyes averted.

"No. No tricks this time," he murmured. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have…kept it a secret for so long."

The black wolf seemed to nod.

" _Very well._ " He rose to his paws, looking hard at Castiel for a moment, before he turned and loped back into the darkness.

Gabriel stared after him with a sad expression. Castiel moved closer, trailing his wings against Gabriel's' comfortingly.

"I am sorry Gabriel," he said quietly. "But you did the right thing."

With a shake of his head, the archangel shrugged it off, pasting a smile on his face.

"Hey at least they didn't kill us!" he said brightly.

Castiel wasn't fooled. "They were your family when you had none. I understand this is…difficult for you."

Gabriel turned away, starting down the snowy pass they had climbed on their way up.

"Well, thanks." He shoved his hands into his pockets. "At least I tried right? We can go into this whole thing knowing that we're  _definitely_ outnumbered."

Castiel shook his head with a smile. "Perhaps they will change their minds. Give them time."

"Time we don't have," Gabriel frowned. "Word will get out pretty fast about me though. We should probably avoid Asia for a while. Kali will be  _pissed_."

The archangel suddenly looked wistful. "But damn is she hot when she's angry."

Castiel decided to ignore that piece of information. The two walked through the snow side by side for a while, passing the still flickering torches.

Finally, Castiel shook his head with a chuckle.

"Really…a  _wolf_ , Gabriel?"

His older brother merely smirked. "Hey it seemed like a cool idea at the time. You should see the Greeks. They're a hell of a lot freakier than me."

"How did you even…" Castiel shook his head furiously. "Never mind, I don't want to know."

Gabriel leered.

"Well, when a mama wolf and a daddy wolf love each other very much…"

The mountains echoed with laughter.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so lazy about putting this fic up, urgh. It's been on FF.net for months now and I just haven't been bothered to move it here. SIGH.

By the time the two angels made it back to Bobby's, the hunters were finishing getting ready.

Bobby, Dean and Sam were down in the panic room, gathering together several duffel bags of weapons, and assorted holy articles. Crowley was sitting cross legged on the bed, playing a round of solitaire with a battered pack of cards. He glanced up as the angels stepped across the threshold, placing a dog-eared Jack on top of a Queen.

"Let me guess; that would be a no go on the Norse god thing," he drawled.

The three humans straightened from their various tasks, turning to look expectantly at Gabriel, who sighed heavily.

"I have good news, and bad news."

Bobby arched an eyebrow, crossing his arms. "Well color me surprised. Let's hear it then."

"Bad news: there won't be any Norse deities galloping to our rescue," Gabriel shrugged. "And we're going up against the devil. Likely to get smote to smithereens.  _If_ we make it past his demonic lackeys."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Yeah thanks. And the good news?"

Gabriel snapped his fingers, and a brown paper bag suddenly materialized in his hand.

"I brought donuts!" he said brightly, as Castiel groaned behind him. Crowley's cards went scattering as the demon rolled off the old mattress, the rusty springs protesting loudly.

"Hallelujah! Did you get the ones with jam? I  _love_  the jam ones."

Bobby glared at the two creatures as they both rummaged through the paper bag, picking out their sugary treats, his hands on his hips.

"Donuts? Yeah 'cause  _that'll_ stop the devil," he growled. "Honestly, this team is lookin' mighty sorry for itself. If we don't manage to kill the devil with the Colt, maybe he'll just drop dead from  _laughin_ ' at us."

Gabriel glanced up, cheeks already stuffed full with sugary goodness. He swallowed hard, eyes twinkling.

"We're a team huh? That means we need a team name!" He bit his lip thoughtfully. "How about Team Gabriel-Is-Awesome?"

Crowley licked his fingers clean of sugar, smacking his lips happily.

"I prefer Team Crowley myself," he supplied.

Bobby stared at the two, as if disbelieving they really existed. And why he was forced to endure them. "How about Team shut the hell up before I kick your supernatural asses all the way to China and back?"

Both creatures stared at the old hunter for a beat, before considering it, frowning slightly.

"Dunno love," Crowley scratched his head. "Be a bit hard to fit on a t-shirt."

Bobby was making some alarming choking noises as Gabriel stroked his chin thoughtfully.

"Hmm, Team STHUBIKYSAATWTC has a certain ring to it. Maybe it'll take Lucifer too long to read it on our shirts and he'll just give up straight away!"

Crowley grinned, delving back into the paper bag to retrieve another pastry. "I like it."

Bobby groaned, turning away and shaking his head in defeat. "Great, I'm surrounded by hell and heavens most retarded. Give me strength," he muttered.

Sam was chuckling as he moved back towards the duffels, but Dean stayed where he was, looking over at Castiel. The angel was back in his usual clothes, though his tie hung askew, looking as if it had been blown by a particularly fierce wind. Maybe it had; Dean had no idea what Asgard was like.  _Snowy maybe?_

The angel approached him, eyes serious.

"I am…regretful I will not be going with you," he said softly. "But you will be safe with Gabriel."

Dean looked over incredulously at the archangel who was now discussing shirt designs with Crowley, still stuffing his face with donuts. "Yeah. I feel safer already."

Castiel smiled, hands in his pockets as he ducked his head. "I admit Gabriel has a…odd sense of humor. But he is also a great warrior."

Dean shrugged one shoulder, eyes trained on the angel's slightly undone tie. His fingers itched to re-do the knot, but he kept his hands firmly pinned to his sides. "If he doesn't skip out on us I'll be happy. We got enough to worry about without him doing a disappearing act on us."

He was taken aback by the fierce look in Castiel's eyes as he looked back up. "I am serious Dean. Gabriel may have hidden for a while, but he has never run from a battle. Not when it was important."

Uncomfortable under the intense scrutiny, Dean turned away, needing to be  _doing_ something. He picked up a bottle of holy water, looking around for a bag to put it in, carefully avoiding those blue eyes.

"You weren't stuck in TV land listening to him yammer on about destiny Cas," he grumbled, shoving the flask into the pocket of Sam's duffle, ignoring the bitchface thrown his way by said sasquatch. "He sounded like someone who had given up, on everything. What if he just turns us in to Lucifer huh?"

It was a hand grabbing onto his elbow that turned him around. Dean jerked, eyes wide as Cas got all up in his personal space like he used to. The angel was close enough Dean could practically count his eyelashes, and Dean squirmed, uncomfortably aware they had an audience.

"Gabriel will die for you if needs be. You  _will_ treat him with respect," Castiel growled. A fissure of excitement ran up Dean's spine, and his mind recalled a very similar conversation that took place in a kitchen what felt like years ago.  _You better show me some respect…I raised you from perdition. I can throw you straight back in._

He felt his blood start to run thick and fast, and he relished in it. It had been too long since Cas had called him on anything, and he felt a familiar stubborn fire in his belly kindle. He tugged his arm away, eyes flashing.

"He has to earn it first," he said lowly, quiet enough that the angel in question couldn't hear. "Just 'cause he's your brother doesn't mean I'm gonna make googly eyes at him and say we're BFFs."

Castiel was searching his eyes, face so very close.

It used to make him uncomfortable when Cas stood that close, but now, he knew the angel well enough to know it was just Cas's way of trying to read him. Apparently he was a tough one, judging by how close Cas always stood, and how exasperated he always looked.

"Yet you expect such a treatment when it concerns your  _own_  brother," the angel said quietly, and Dean's spine stiffened. He stepped forward, chest almost bumping Cas's threateningly as he pointed at the angel.

"Now that's not…" he trailed off, the words dying in his throat.  _It's not the same._

Not a muscle twitched in Cas's face, his expression carefully neutral, though Dean got the impression he had failed some kind of test.

"He's my  _brother_ , Dean."

Dean snorted, looking away sullenly. "Yeah. So's Lucifer," he muttered.

He regretted the words as soon as he said them, eyes widening.  _Shit._

The barb had apparently hit its mark. Cas's spine was suddenly ramrod straight, his jaw set as he stared down the taller hunter. "So he is." He said quietly. "Thank you for reminding me. I had almost forgotten that the enemy that we are seeking to destroy is a brother I once loved very much."

Searching his eyes one last time, Cas shook his head, turning away and disappearing through the door and out of the panic room. Dean stood in silence, staring after him for a moment, before turning back to the duffel with a dark curse.

Sam looked over, unimpressed. "Nice going _jerk_."

Dean glowered darkly, shoving a knife into the duffle. "Shut it Samantha."

 

* * *

 

They were ready to go an hour later. After another run-down of the plan, the Impala was packed and ready. Ellen and Jo gave the boys a hard hug between them.

"Now you two be careful. No heroics. You get in, you shoot the devil. If it doesn't work, you get your shapely asses out of there sharpish." Ellen patted Sam on the cheek fondly. "We'll hold down the fort until you boys get back."

Sam smiled. "You got it. Keep an eye on Crowley ok?"

Jo pulled away from hugging Dean. "Oh don't you worry. We can handle him no problem." She shot a look over at a silent Castiel standing on the porch. "After all, we got our own guardian angel now!"

Dean glanced over, and Castiel gazed back, nodding slightly.

The porch door swung open and Gabriel strolled out, nudging his silent brother as he passed.

"You going to be ok kiddo? Not gonna get into too much trouble I hope," he winked, raising his voice as he looked over at Dean. "Save the strippers for after we leave!"

Bobby rolled his eyes, tugging the Impala's door open. "Remind me why we have to take him again?"

Gabriel bounced down the steps. "Because I can't zap you there as it might alert my dear evil brother. So instead we get to be stuck in a car together for four hours!" the archangel beamed falsely. "We're going to have so much fun!"

Sam groaned loudly, opening the passenger side door. "Goody."

Dean threw another glance over at the porch as he tugged open the driver's door. Castiel was still standing there, eyes sad. Ellen and Jo stood beside him, leaning on the railing. He bit his lip worriedly, guilt roiling in his stomach. He didn't want to leave Cas with the words he had said. Just…just in case.

"Cas," he called softly. The angel looked over at him, frowning slightly, and Dean rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

"I'm uh…I'm sorry 'bout earlier. Be careful ok?" he managed awkwardly.

Something softened in those blue eyes, and the angel's posture relaxed slightly.

"You too, Dean. Be safe."

Nodding to himself, Dean climbed into his baby, shutting the door. As she purred to life, and Dean coaxed her out of the junkyard, he could still see that trench coat in the rearview mirror.

In about five minutes, Gabriel and Sam were arguing about what music to listen to.

 

* * *

 

War yawned, stretching his back contentedly, hands behind his head. The metal of his cherry red Mustang was warm beneath his back, and he shifted on its hood, sighing happily. His feet dangled above the bumper, and he kicked them idly, scrunching his nose as a dragonfly buzzed by.

"Now  _this_  is the good life Gentlemen," he murmured.

There was an answering sneeze from Pestilence, and a groan from Famine. Slowly War cracked open an eye to look over at his brothers. Pestilence was leaning sullenly against his own car, arms crossed as his nose ran, and eyes watered. Famine was seated nearby in his wheelchair, wheezing. His hands were hooked into claws as he tugged at the demon's coat who stood beside him.

"So…hungry," he groaned. The demon dutifully fetched a briefcase, and War watched as his brother fed on yet another soul. It was like the tenth that morning.

War struggled into a sitting position, scowling. "Good god Famine, can't you go for like two seconds without  _inhaling_ someone?"

Pestilence rolled his eyes. "He's  _Famine._ Not like he goes around handing out kittens."

War grinned, slapping his good hand on the mustang's hood beneath him. "Now  _that_ would be a good horseman. Imagine the people we could terrorize with that."

Pestilence rubbed his nose, eyes sticky with pus. "People allergic to cats?"

"Bingo," War snapped his fingers.

A demon interrupted their conversation, hurrying into the horsemen's midst in a clatter of limbs and swinging binoculars.

"My lords. The Winchesters have left," he murmured, breathless.

War slid off the hood of his car, patting the hood fondly. Both feet on the ground, he straightened his suit, dusting himself off.

"Wonderful. Anyone left?"

The demon fidgeted nervously, fingers tapping the binoculars hung around his neck. "It is…difficult to tell Sire."

Pestilence pushed away from his car, rubbing his eyes. "And why is that exactly?"

The demon cowered away from him, eyes firmly trained on the ground. "My lord, there are many wards in place that prevent me from sensing what is inside. From our intelligence watching the property, there are two humans, and two supernatural creatures. From our position, we cannot tell what they are."

Pestilence shot a sticky look at War, and the horseman sighed. "Let me guess; angels."

The demon dipped his head. "It is possible, my lord."

Finished with his meal, Famine shifted in his seat, breath a raspy wisp. He smiled a yellow grin, hands gripping the arms of his wheelchair fiercely. "I wonder…what angel… _tastes like._ "

War chuckled. "Well you're about to find out, brother," he nodded to the demon cowering in front of him. "Alright. Assemble the others." With a quick bow, the demon hurried away.

War glanced up into the bright blue sky. "Welp. At least it's a nice day for bloodshed."

Pestilence coughed something up, staring curiously at the wet mess in his hand before wiping it nonchalantly on his pants. "Remember what Lucifer said. No screw ups this time. We get in, get the ring, and then get out."

War grinned as a group of demons materialized in front of him, winking over at his brother. "Yeah but he didn't say we couldn't have a little  _fun_  too."

The demons shifted in front of him, all nervous but eager to begin. War clapped his hands, drawing their attention.

"Listen up people! You know the drill. Lucifer gets to have all the fun whereas we're just the cleanup crew. Do this right, and we'll be back in time to have a little fun of our own with Death mmkay?" There were excited murmurs amongst the damned, and War smiled.

"All right! Man your battle stations, and get my damn  _ring_."

 

* * *

 

After nearly four hours of listening to Gabriel and Sam complain, usually about each other, and Bobby yelling at both, Dean was relieved to finally make it to the little town Crowley had marked out on the map. As they all climbed out of the car, they looked around worriedly, the Impala doors sounding absurdly loud in the deathly silence as they slammed.

"This place is dead," Sam said worriedly, shot gun in his hands. The streets were quiet, the surrounding buildings all dark and empty. "Where is everyone?"

Gabriel was quiet, looking up and down the street. "Dead  _literally_. There are Reapers everywhere."

Bobby shouldered a duffel bag, frowning. "Not a good thing if they're here."

The archangel shook his head, eyes darting around the empty street. "Definitely not. They're all…waiting."

Dean cocked his rifle, startling the three. "So let's get this show on the road," he said grimly.

Slowly, the four started down the street, weapons drawn and eyes peeled. It was unnerving how quiet the town was, not a soul in sight. Nor demon. Gabriel shuddered, rubbing his arms worriedly.

"This is  _not_  good," he muttered.

Sam snorted, eyes trained on the dark buildings around them. "And you thought it was going to be?"

Gabriel did a pretty accurate re-enactment of Sam's own bitchface. "I didn't know  _what_  to expect. This is…as bad as I thought it would be." He glanced up at the rapidly darkening sky. "In order to summon Death, Lucifer is going to have to pull off something pretty huge."

"Like sacrificing a whole town?" Bobby asked grimly, and both Winchester's started at that, turning wide eyes to each other.

Gabriel nodded, voice serious. "Afraid so. It's probably too late to save them."

Dean's eyes hardened. "Let's go get this son of a bitch."

The group walked in silence, still scanning the buildings around them. Though it hardly mattered, Gabriel tried to sidestep each Reaper as he passed, but it was getting impossible. The ghostly creatures were  _everywhere_ , lining the streets and standing shoulder to shoulder, dead black eyes trained on the sky.

It was creepy.

There was an undercurrent of foreboding penetrating the very air of the place, and the archangel wrapped his coat tighter around himself, reassuring himself his angel blade was close to hand. Though the humans couldn't see it, his wings were tucked very close to his back, muscles jumping in nervous anticipation, causing his feathers to flutter and puff. The Reapers took no notice, continuing their silent vigilance of the sky.

A shape flitted away further down the street, and Dean drew up short, the others halting nervously.

"What was that?" Bobby asked gruffly as Dean squinted.

"Looked like a kid." He looked over his shoulder, starting forward again. "Might be a survivor."

Gabriel shook his head. "We have a plan to stick to genius. Can't get side-tracked."

Dean glowered at him, jaw set and eyes flashing. "It's a  _kid_  dickwad. I'm not leaving a kid behind."

Judging by the grim looks of the other two, they agreed. Gabriel sighed.

" _Fine_. I'll check it out. You blockheads just continue with the plan. Lucifer should be on the outskirts of the town at the farm. I'll meet you there," he muttered.

 

* * *

 

The side street he ended up turning down was even deader than the main street. No Reapers stood along its asphalt, and Gabriel paused nervously. There was a flash of bouncing blonde hair a little further ahead of him, and the unmistakable shape of a young girl that darted into the safety of a dark shop.

Grumbling to himself about well-meaning hunters, Gabriel followed her.

The shop floor was dark and quiet; some sort of grocery store. Gabriel picked his way through the debris of overturned food products until he reached a back door labeled "STAFF ONLY." Behind the door yawned a dark stairwell, and the archangel paused again. He couldn't sense anything dangerous in the immediate surroundings, and cautiously he started up the dark staircase.

The wooden stairs creaked under his feet; the bannister rough under his palm. The top floor looked like it was an apartment of some sort; the stairs opened up into a long hallway, and Gabriel picked his way down it, one hand running along the plaster wall.

"Anyone there?" he asked softly, ears straining to hear the child. Or  _anything._

He heard a faint intake of breath and the faint pitter patter of tiny feet scurrying across a floor. A door opened to his right, and Gabriel slowly moved into the room, eyes straining in the dark. He raised his hand, about to snap his fingers and summon a light of some sort when the room suddenly erupted in light.

With a cry, Gabriel threw up his arm shielding his eyes. Heat licked at his exposed skin, and his stomach sank to the bottom of his shoes.  _Not again…._

Sure enough, as he slowly lowered his arm, he found himself surrounded by a ring of holy fire.

"Oh come ON!" he yelled, arms sweeping in a wide arc of frustration. "Two times this month?"

The girl stood in front of him, dressed in a dusty red plaid sundress. She was a beautiful child, with long blonde hair that spilled over her pale shoulders. She was barefoot; her feet dusty and dirty like her dress. She cocked her head, blue eyes wide and curious as she gazed at the angel through the flames. Gabriel glowered over at her, crossing his arms sullenly.

"And just who are you supposed to be?" he growled. "Let me guess. Your mother was called Rosemarie."

The child smiled at him then, the light of its innocence not reaching her eyes. "Well isn't  _this_ a surprise."

Slowly, the child morphed; her small limbs elongating and thickening. She shot up in height, her face broadening and hair shriveling. Suddenly a tall blonde man stood in front of Gabriel, dressed in a simple t-shirt and jeans.

But this was no mere mortal man.

Gabriel suddenly felt very small and exposed. The flames licked at his wings, and the archangel tucked them more firmly against him, his heart racing.

Lucifer grinned at him. "Gabriel. Word is you're dead. I'm relieved to see that isn't the case."

Gabriel swallowed, pasting a smile on his face. "Hey Luc. Long time no see huh?"

Slowly, the devil started circling the trapped angel. "That it has been. Gotta admit Gabriel, of all the angels travelling with the Winchesters, you weren't the one I was aiming for."

 _Castiel_. Gabriel thought wildly.  _Bastard was trying to catch Castiel._

He smiled cockily. "Well sorry to disappoint you big bro. Might as well let me go and I'll be on my merry way huh?"

Lucifer shook his head with a chuckle. "Oh Gabriel. Ever the joker." He paused his circling, shadows dancing across his face. "I can't do that."

 _Keep him talking. Keep him busy._  Gabriel floundered, his mind racing.

"So. The Apocalypse. You've been pretty busy," he said lightly.

Lucifer smiled, the gesture not reaching his eyes. Even through the heat of the flames, Gabriel felt cold.

"You bet. But let's talk about  _you_  brother. Working with the Winchester's now?" the devil clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "Disappointing Gabriel. Very disappointing."

Gabriel found his fear sapping away into an old anger. "What did you expect? This is the  _end of the world_  we're talking about. What would Dad say?"

Those cold eyes flashed. "You know was well as I do that 'Dad' doesn't say much of anything anymore."

Both angels stared each other down, until Lucifer sighed heavily, resuming his pacing. "Don't give me that look brother. This has been a long time coming. Two little men waving a rusty old gun at me isn't going to stop anything."

The devil smiled, smug, at the look of surprise that flitted across Gabriel's face. "Oh yes. I know all about the Colt. I suppose it's flattering; they're trying so  _hard_ to stop me."

Gabriel's wings shivered with anger. "And they will," he said confidently. "The Winchester's are going to kick your  _ass_."

Lucifer threw his head back, laughing. "Oh Gabriel. I forgot how amusing you were."

Gabriel clenched his fists, trying to calm himself. "What's with the horsemen then? Why summon them to this party?"

Lucifer shrugged. Gabriel found it disconcerting; he couldn't see his brother's wings. In fact he couldn't see any  _trace_  of his brother's grace. Either Lucifer was now so powerful he could hide it, even from another archangel, or…

Or Lucifer didn't have any grace anymore.

"What can I say? They're a means to an end. I certainly didn't summon them for their  _company,_ " Lucifer chuckled again, shaking his head. "Though perhaps Death will be more sensible than the others."

 _Shit._ The ritual.

Lucifer seemed to know what he was thinking, and nodded.

"Oh yes. The ritual. It's wonderful being an archangel isn't it? You can appear to be in two places at once," the devil smiled. "The Winchester's are currently attempting to kill my fake doppelganger. Pretty clever if I may say so myself."

Gabriel gritted his teeth. "What is this all about Luc? Just tell me that."

Lucifer paused his circling again, looking thoughtful. "Gabriel, do you remember Azazel?"

Gabriel remembered all right. He remembered that smug look of victory that little prick had flaunted at him on an ancient battlefield as he had demanded Gabriel hand over an injured Castiel. He remembered watching the same fallen angel enter a house and destroy the lives of a whole family.

He remembered.

Lucifer continued, despite Gabriel's silence. "He was loyal. Eager to please. In fact, he was probably the best son a father could ask for."

That got Gabriel's attention, and he surged against the fire, the heat licking at his face as he snarled.

"He wasn't your  _son_  Lucifer. He was your  _brother,_ " he spat.

Lucifer looked amused as he watched the archangel strain against the holy fire barrier, continuing as if uninterrupted.

"But as is the way with most sons, he failed me in the end. That little… _experiment_ of his with the children," Lucifer made a face. "I told him demons weren't pure enough. But he always had such a  _fondness_ for them. It was his downfall."

Gabriel withdrew, shaking with rage as he tucked his wings back against him. Lucifer shrugged.

"It was worth a try I suppose. The fledglings he gave me never lived long. He had to consider other options."

Gabriel froze at that, eyes widening.  _Fledglings?_

"There hasn't been a fledgling in millennia," he growled. "Not since…" He clamped his mouth shut.

Lucifer grinned triumphantly. "Since  _Castiel_. Yes. You can see my predicament."

Gabriel shook his head, dawning horror making his stomach churn. "You're insane. You can't produce fledglings without God."

Plus  _ew_. Azazel making fledglings? He'd bet anything that Azazel made  _ugly_  baby angels. If you could call them angels.

Lucifer frowned at that. "Insane? Maybe a little. That happens when your family locks you in a cage and shuns your very existence." He leaned towards the flames, eyes glittering in the strange light. "Do you know what it's like Gabriel? My very own personal hell?"

Gabriel didn't want to know at  _all_  thank you very much.

"It's cold. There is nothing there, but me. An empty expanse of  _nothing_ but a frozen waste," he pulled away. "It's funny really. Humans think I burn so  _hot_ , when in fact, I'm so very  _cold_."

Gabriel snorted. "Yeah. Hilarious. Can I go now?"

The smoke from the fire was beginning to make his head swim and his vision blur. Gabriel shook himself hard and Lucifer swam back into focus. He was smiling again.

"Leave so soon? After we've spent so long apart?" Lucifer crooned. "No dear brother. Though unexpected, I now have plans for you."

"I'm flattered. Gonna have to decline though, sorry. Serious business to attend to dontcha know. Left a cake in the oven," Gabriel snarked.

Something nearly slipped through Lucifer's passive expression. A hint of the true power and anger that lurked beneath. But then it was gone, and the devil smiled serenely.

"I'm afraid I can't let you go. You'd probably go help out your little friends, and I can't have that. Not when I'm so  _close._ "

His head was really pounding now, and Gabriel swayed on unsteady feet.

"You…you won't take Sam Winchester," he growled, blinking. "He'll never say yes."

Lucifer watched him closely, eyes bright. "Oh, you're referring to Raphael's little vessel plan? I'll admit, it was thoughtful of her." He waved a hand dismissively. "I've played along like a good little devil, but playtime is almost over. I'll deal with her when the time comes. But  _you_ Gabriel-"

The room was tilting, and Gabriel found himself nearly toppling over. His legs strained to keep him away from the flames.

"- _you_  I owe a small debt. You took care of my things while I was gone. I don't forget my friends unlike some. Consider this…a gift of sorts."

Gabriel struggled to concentrate on the conversation.  _What…what's happening to me…._

Lucifer was looking at him pityingly. "I'm sorry for the dramatics brother. But you're considerably more powerful than Castiel. I've had to…take some  _alternate_ action."

Gabriel slowly sank to his knees, vision blurring.

"What…what do you want with him?" he growled, struggling against the power that was enveloping him.

Lucifer's eyes were bright in the flames. "Oh is this the part where you convince me to reveal my nefarious plans through a bad guy monologue?" The devil laughed, the sound loud in Gabriel's ringing ears. "Sorry to disappoint you."

He leant forward again, tapping his forehead slyly. "Not this time Mr. Bond. This will work much better if you just don't resist me Gabriel."

Gabriel slumped to the floor, narrowly avoiding the flames as he struggled to draw air into his suddenly gasping lungs. "N…never."

Lucifer cocked his head, gazing down at him. "Very well. We'll do this the hard way."


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: There are canon character deaths this chapter. I had planned to include them from the beginning; sorry if I break any hearts, but I needed it for the plot, as sad as I was to write it! Waaa. (At least they're not graphic. Sob)

They had found the occupants of the town.

Sam stared down in horrified awe at the deep pit gouged into the corn field. Demons toiled low in the dirt, and even from their far away position, Sam could see the pale outlines of slumped bodies lining the bottom of the pit.

Dean cursed, leaning forward slightly, peering through the dark foliage of the bush they had chosen as cover.

"They killed  _everyone,_ " he ground. "Fucking bastards."

Bobby reached out in the darkness, touching his shoulder and squeezing slightly as he crouched low. "Stay focused Dean. Where's the devil?"

The question was aimed at Sam, and he shook himself, dragging his eyes from the grotesque scene below. Scanning the toiling workers, one figure stood out, standing on the edge of the pit, looking down at them. A tall blonde man leant on a shovel, idly watching the demons' progress below, fingers tapping on the shovel's wooden handle.

Sam swallowed heavily, his heart racing. "There. Blondie, one 'o clock."

Dean already had the Colt in his hand, and Sam felt another wave of crippling fear wash over him.  _This is it. We're really doing it._

"Alright," Dean said grimly. "Let's do this."

Bobby tugged him back before the hunter could start forward, eyes wide in the dim light from beneath the tattered brim of his hat.

"Hold up there Starsky. We have to wait for that idjit angel. Doing this without him would be suicide."

The demons had apparently finished their digging, and all stood in the large pit, looking up at their Master. Dean mumbled something obscene under his breath as with a wave of his hand, Lucifer seemed to incapacitate all of his minions, who slumped to the ground, bodies flopping limply.

"We can't wait, Bobby!" Dean hissed, as he pulled his arm away. "Gabriel probably ran off,  _again_."

Sam watched as the devil started chanting something, the bodies of the demons beginning to twitch; their eyes glowing eerily.

"We should really wait," he said nervously. "We need Gabriel to get us ou-"

Dean whirled on his brother with a hiss. "We can't! It's started Sam. Either we do this  _now_ , or not at all."

Sam looked back at his brother, before nodding tersely, jaw set. "Alright. Alright Dean, let's do this."

"I don't like it," Bobby grumbled as the the two stole forward, keeping low to the ground. He hurried after them, all three skirting down the slight slope and around the back of the leaning devil. "Goddamn  _suicide_."

Dean had the Colt out in front of him, fingers ready to squeeze the trigger as he lined the barrel up with the bowed head in in front of him. The devil stopped his chanting, sighing exasperatingly.

"Really, don't you think these theatrics are a bit much?" he mused. "Shooting a guy in the back? Hardly sportsman-like."

All three hunters froze, eyes wide as Lucifer slowly turned around.

The devil looked like a regular dude doing some late night gardening. He leant on his dirty shovel, a smudge of dark dirt along one cheek. He cocked his head, eyes bright in the darkness.

"You boys finally made it. I'm glad," Lucifer arched an eyebrow. "Well don't just  _crouch_  there, come say hi."

Dean was the first to straighten, and he kept the Colt firmly trained on the smiling devil. Sam's heart was pounding, his mouth dry as the devil cast a glance over at him.

"Hello Sam. Long time no speak. I've missed our little chats."

Dean growled, and the click of a gun cocking drew the devil's attention back to him. "Don't you  _dare_ talk to him you son of a bitch."

Lucifer chuckled, fingers splaying on his shovel. "Woah there cowboy. No need to be rude."

Wrestling his whirling emotions under control, Sam glowered at him darkly. "What do you want?"

Lucifer shrugged, one hand brushing some dirt from his jeans. "Well you know…a pony, a billion dollars…oh and the destruction of mankind of course," he winked at the three. "Can't forget about that."

"This ends  _now,_ " Dean snarled. "No more killing, no more apocalypse. Time to  _end_  this little tantrum of yours."

Lucifer laughed, and the sound made the hairs on the back of Sam's arms stand to attention. "You call this a tantrum? Oh baby, I haven't even gotten  _started._ "

Bobby snorted; shot gun not wavering in his hands as he stared the devil down. "So you're gonna wipe out mankind 'cause Daddy liked us more? Real mature."

The devil let the shovel thump to the ground, eyes flashing. "What a brave little insect. What would  _you_ know?" his face twisted into a grotesque sneer. "You were still cooking in your primordial  _stew_ when I walked the Earth. Angels everywhere, beautiful and holy…then _you_  happened."

Bobby backed up a step as the devil neared. "Lemmie guess. Big brother didn't like the new baby so decided to let Daddy know. By kicking off a  _civil war._ "

The devil seemed disbelieving at the old hunters gall. He paused, blinking for a moment, before smiling widely.

"Sometimes I forget how tenacious you little ants can be. Scurrying all over the picnic, ruining everything," he shrugged. "But no matter. I'll exterminate you. I'll turn you back into the filthy mud you crawled out of. It's all you deserve really."

Sam could feel adrenaline rushing through his veins like a freight train, his hands shaking as he balled them into fists; nails digging crescent moons into his palms. "That's not your decision to make."

"No?" The devil looked around surprised. "Well, if there are any objections, then by all means, let me be struck down where I stand. Unleash your wrath oh heavenly Father!"

Nothing happened. The dark clearing remained still and quiet.

Lucifer looked triumphant, hands on his hips as he looked back at the humans. "Guess not huh? Bummer." The devil shook his head, stooping to retrieve his shovel. "No-one's listening to you boys. And I have things to do, people to kill." He straightened, teeth flashing white as he smiled. "If you don't mind, I have a horseman to summon."

Dean took a step forward, Colt leveled at the devil's head. "You were wrong about something." He ground.

Lucifer rolled his eyes, cocking a hip. "Oh really? About what?"

Dean's eyes were cold, his finger straining on the trigger. "God might not object, but I know someone who does."

Lucifer frowned, fingers tapping his shovel idly. "Huh. And who's that?"

" _I_  object, motherfucker!" Dean growled, pulling the trigger.

The sound of the Colt firing was deafening, sparks licking across the barrel as the bullet shot from its snug confines. It hit its mark dead on, and the devil's head snapped back, a spray of blood arcing against the night sky.

Sam was barely breathing as the devil fell to the ground, eyes wide.  _It worked, we did it, it's all over…oh thank God it's all over…._

Dean lowered the gun, staring at the corpse. "Is he-" he jerked as the body on the ground groaned, Lucifer sitting up and slapping a hand to his head. The devil looked up at the three, eyes blazing.

"Um,  _ow._ " He struggled to his feet, and the three horrified hunters watched as the hole shot through his brain healed instantly. Lucifer wiped the blood from his forehead away, glowering darkly at Dean.

"Ok Asshole, you got my attention," he growled. "I was going to just let you three enjoy the show, but I think I'll make my life a bit easier and just kill you now."

" _Shit_ ," Sam heard Bobby curse. "We need to get of here  _yesterday._   **Gabriel**!"

No snarky archangel appeared however, and all three started backing away as Lucifer stalked forward.

_Shit shit shit._

"Don't worry boys," the devil grinned evilly, "it won't hurt.  _After_  I have my fun."

Dean was muttering to himself as Bobby tried shouting for Gabriel again, fumbling with something in his pocket. Sam reached out to grab the back of his coat as his older brother backed into him, eyes wide as he stared at the oncoming devil.

"Dean?" his voice wavered.

Finding what he was looking for, Dean grunted triumphantly. He pulled out his phone, flipping the metal case open with a snap. Bobby noticed, and grabbed Dean's sleeve, pulling him along as the three continued to back away from the advancing devil.

"I hardly think this is the time for a phone call, boy!"

Dean was furiously hitting the keys, the electronic beeps sounding loud in the deathly silence of the field. Apparently hitting the right button, Dean snapped the phone to his ear, eyes widening as he noticed Lucifer drawing closer.

"Cas!" he shouted. "You better get your feathery ass right here or we are gonna  _die._ " The devil was only a few feet away now, stalking closer. "You hear me?  _We're gonna die Cas."_

The devil smirked, looking at Dean. "Let's see, I think I'll start with the pretty one. I can think of a few fun things to do with  _those_ lips."

There was a shift in the air, and the devil drew up short, attention drawn by something just behind the Winchesters. Dean heard Sam's shaky intake of breath, and breathed a silent sigh of relief.  _Cas man, you have great timing._

Lucifer's eyes were glittering. "Castie-"

A hand grabbed the back of Dean's jacket, and the world tilted sideways.

 

* * *

 

Dean hit the ground knees first. With a grunt of pain he rolled with it to his side, wincing at the sharp jolt of pain that lanced through his legs.

" _Jesus_ Cas we gotta work on your landings!" Grumbling, he twisted, looking behind him. Sam stared at him, his face pale. He was smiling slightly.

"That was close," he breathed. Bobby was coughing, struggling to his feet and brushing himself down, shaken, but otherwise fine. Dean grinned, slapping his hand on his brother's shoulder.

"Damn straight. Thanks Cas you're a real-" he trailed off as he noticed the angel.

Castiel was bent over double in the dirt, struggling to draw a breath, blood caking the side of his face.

With a curse Dean was at his side, hands grabbing the angel's arm and helping him into a more comfortable position. The angel was pale and shaking, eyes wide.  _He's too far gone to fly us all,_  Dean thought dumbly.  _We nearly killed him._

"Cas you ok? Jesus I'm sorry, we didn't have much choice!" he said, patting the angel down worriedly, checking for any other wounds. Castiel shoved his hand away, shaking his head.

"Dean…I'm sorry," he gasped. "I….I tried."

Dean shushed him, pulling him into a sitting position. "Are you kidding? You saved our bacon Cas, if anyone should be sorry, it's us. We shouldn't have-"

It was Bobby's shout that cut him off, and frowning, Dean turned his head.

Bobby's house was in ruins.

The front door had been ripped off its hinges and lay in a splintered heap on the dusty ground. Black scorches stretched along the shingles and siding, and some areas still smoldered with fire.

Crowley sat on the front porch steps, arms resting on his knees and hands clasped as he looked over at them. His eyes were serious, and there was no trace of the demon's usual smarminess. Bobby gaped up at his house, mouth opening and closing as Sam joined him, gazing up at the house with horror.

"What…what happened?" Sam asked.

Crowley shook his head, eyes dropping. "The horsemen. They stormed the house a little while after you left. They were here for the ring."

Bobby started up the steps, eyes still glued to the destroyed doorway. The demon reached out a gentle hand to stop him, and the old hunter glared down at him.

"Out of my way," Bobby growled. "This is my  _house_  you damn bastard, I gotta see what they…"

The words died in his throat as he suddenly realized Crowley and Castiel were alone. "Where…where's Ellen? Jo?"

Dean's stomach dropped as Crowley shook his head, fingers curling around Bobby's arm to gently coax the hunter to sit down.

"You don't want to go in there," the demon's voice was almost gentle. "Not yet."

Bobby stared at the demon, uncomprehending. Dean stood, leaving Cas to slowly walk towards the house. Sam stood there as if in a daze as he passed. There in the doorway, Dean could just about see a foot, poking out from beneath a bloodstained blanket. Dean recognized that blanket; he had thrown it over the back of the sofa that very morning. The foot was wearing a bright blue sock; small daisy's embroidered into the cotton, smiling over at him cheerfully.

Jo's sock.

Dean felt his legs give out, and he slumped against the rickety porch railing, eyes still glued to the shape beneath the blanket.

Crowley pulled his hand away from Bobby, folding his hands again in front of him, as he glanced up at the sky. "They were through the wards before anyone knew what was happening. I heard the commotion from downstairs," he exhaled, running a hand through his short dark hair. "Your little angel stumbled down and released me. We kept 'em at bay for a little while, but it wasn't enough. They got the ring."

Dean turned his gaze to a battered Castiel as he neared the porch steps, clutching his stomach. The angel's eyes were sorrowful.

"I tried Dean. But…" he swallowed hard. "Jo…she was dead before I knew what was happening."

"Shut up," Dean bit out the words, turning his head away to hide his watering eyes. "I don't want to hear it."

Sam had sunk to the ground, soft sounds of grief coming from his slumped form. Bobby's eyes were wide, his gaze far away.

"What about Ellen?" he asked tonelessly. "Tell me what happened. From the beginning."

Crowley smiled slightly, rubbing at a smudge of blood along his cheek. "You mean the firecracker? Damn I'd never seen a human take on that any demons at once."

Castiel sank onto the lowest porch step, looking up at Bobby. "She knew what was happening. I was in the study, so did not see Jo fall but…"The angel swallowed. "She did. It was the horsemen. I tried to get into the living room but there were too many…demons…" The angel looked down, closing his eyes briefly. "I had to retreat to the panic room. I…I freed Crowley from the devil trap to help me fight. The horsemen followed. Famine he…he attempted to devour my grace. Hence my…" he winced. "Weak state."

Crowley snorted. "Weak? That bony bastard nearly ate you  _completely._ You'd be an appetizer now if it weren't for that human. She came barreling down like a bloody  _Valkyrie_ , through demons and all. She overturned Famine's wheelchair and punched War  _in the face,_ " he said gleefully.

Crowley's smile slipped as Castiel glared at him, and the demon dropped his voice back to a respectful murmur. "She saved both our asses before Pestilence got her. We had to get out of there, otherwise we'd be next. They got the ring."

Tears were tracking down Bobby's cragged face, but he managed a smile. "That's my girl. Ellen, hard-as-goddamn-nails- Harvelle."

Dean shoved away from the doorway, eyes blinking furiously.

"So you left them both," he snarled. "You were supposed to  _watch them_  and now they're dead."

Castiel struggled to his feet, wincing. "Dean, please I-"

Dean shoved past him, storming away from the house.

 

* * *

 

Bobby's house and dark and quiet. Ellen and Jo's bodies had been respectfully burned out back already, only Bobby managing to say a few words. For Dean and Sam, the grief was too consuming.

Sam sat at the kitchen table, staring at the wood grain blankly, as Crowley perched nearby. The demon had managed to clean up the worst of the damage with his powers, but black scorches of flame still decorated the walls and ceiling; apparently from Crowley's attempts to keep the horsemen at bay. No-one dared go down towards the panic room just yet. Bodies of demons were spread out down there; blood staining the concrete in congealed sticky pools.

Dean had finally come back inside to furiously grab a beer and stalk into the living room, ignoring Castiel. Sam had haltingly filled the angel in on what had happened, including Gabriel's no-show, and convinced his brother was in trouble, Castiel had been unsuccessfully trying to talk to Dean about it. Sam winced as Dean's voice again rose into a shout, his boots pounding on the floor as his brother attempted to out walk and outshout the angel trailing behind him.

"Dean."

"I said get away from me."

"Dean,  _please_."

Dean had stalked into the study, and Sam glanced over as he spotted them through the doorway. Dean's shoulders were rigid as he faced away, swigging hard from a beer bottle. Cas stood a little distance away from him, eyes bright and devastated as he watched.

"What do you want to say?" Dean growled, throwing the bottle away. The glass clinked as it hit the wall, rolling along the scorched carpet. "They're  _dead_. Nothing you say is going to bring them back, so what Cas? What could you  _possibly_  say?"

Castiel shoulders straightened, eyes still staring at Dean's back. "I wish it was me and not them. Would that help you? Would that ease your pain?"

"Yeah you know what?" Dean whirled around, and Sam recognized the look in his eyes. This was grieving Dean. Dean wanted to lash out, to hurt anyone and anything the way he was hurting. "It would."

 _Oh Dean. You don't really mean that._ Sam thought sadly.

The words had the desired effect, and Cas seized up, an emotionless poker face falling into place. Dean had done it now, Cas was completely closed off to him.

"Fine," the angel bit out curtly. "Perhaps I will oblige you soon."

Dean knew he had messed up. He ran a hand through his hair, desperately trying to think of a way to take it back.

"Cas no that's not what I…" Cas ignored him, turning and starting into the kitchen, much to Sam's alarm.

Something dark flickered across Dean's face, and he started after him, pointing angrily. "Don't you walk away from me!"

Sam sat perfectly still, trying to appear as inconspicuous as possible as Cas turned, eyes flashing to engage Dean again. Crowley sighed from his perch on the counter.

"Mommy and Daddy are fighting again," he stage whispered over to Sam.

Dean was fidgeting, a bundle of aggressive and nervous energy. "That's not what I meant. You don't understand okay, Ellen and Jo…"

"Oh I understand!" Cas shouted, making Sam jump. "They were my friends too! Don't talk to me about  _mourning._  I was  _there_."

Sam wondered if he could subtly escape the room, but both exits were blocked.

Castiel was up in Dean's face now, eyes flashing and angry. "I have lost countless siblings and friends in this… _ridiculous_  war. You think I don't feel Ellen and Jo's deaths? I do. But my brother is  _missing_ , Dean."

"He ran off!" Dean wasn't about to back down, his chin practically bumping Cas's nose as he leant forward aggressively. "He's done it before. Why can't you just accept that?"

"He did not!" Cas growled. "The only reason Gabriel would  _disappear_  was if he was captured. Lucifer has him, and you dare stand there and declare him a  _coward_."

Shit. Dean was furious. Sam could tell by the way his jaw clenched, his hands balling into fists. There was going to be violence soon, and Sam tried to scrunch up even smaller.

"Probably because he  _is_  one," Dean said dangerously. "If not for him, we might have stood a chance-"

Sam jumped a foot in the air as Cas's hand slammed down on the table, cutting Dean off. The angel was practically shaking with rage.

"Be quiet!" he bellowed, and to Sam's amazement, Dean obeyed, eyes wide and disbelieving as the angel tore into him.

"I have sacrificed a great many things for you Dean," Cas's eyes were intense, his nose only a few centimeters from Dean's. "But I will _not_ let my brother be one of them. Gabriel has been captured, and I will save him. With, or without your help."

The echoes of his voice reverberated around the small room, as the two glared at each other, neither giving an inch as they stared one another down. Sam was starting to feel uncomfortable. Crowley clapped his hands, startling everyone.

"I've seen porn start this way," the demon announced. "And as nice as it would be to watch you two get all hot and bothered, I think we should discuss our plans. The Colt didn't work. We need a new plan."

Sam swallowed hard, staring back down at the table.

"What plan?" he asked brokenly. "It didn't work. We lost Jo and Ellen. Everything's just… _fucked._ "

Dean and Cas were looking over at him now, the rage in the room simmering down to a calmer boil. Crowley crossed his arms, legs dangling against the counters beneath him.

"Thank you for the inspiring speech, but I was looking for something a bit more…peppy," Crowley said.

Dean stepped away from Cas finally. "Sam's right," he said bitterly. "We fucked the world up. We might as well just quit now."

"Did I hear right?" an angry voice interjected. Everyone looked up to see Bobby in the doorway. The old hunter had dark circles under his eyes from crying, but he stood in front of them proudly, eyes flashing. "Did I hear a Winchester say we should  _give up_?"

Dean looked down, jaw clenched and eyes wet. "Bobby, Ellen and Jo-"

"Are dead," Bobby said bluntly. "And it will never be ok, and I won't ever stop grieving. I feel like my heart has been ripped out and been shredded by a werewolf." He swallowed. "But they didn't die so we could sit around feelin' sorry for ourselves, and they  _certainly_ didn't die so we could just throw our hands up and ask to get off this ride 'cause we don't like it." He glared hard over at Dean, who avoided his eyes. "They died damn heroes and I'm gonna do right by 'em. If I have to kill the devil with my bare hands then so be it. That bastard is  _not_ gonna win, you hear me? Not on my watch."

The kitchen was silent, Sam staring up at his father figure with wet eyes. Bobby continued, his voice still hard and unflinching.

"Now I understand that your  _fragile_ Winchester feelings wanna cry and angst and scream at everyone for a bit and make everyone feel miserable, but I 'aint got time for that bullshit. You wanna mope and feel bad? Fine. Do it after we kill the devil. Until then, you damn well better honor two of the greatest women this sorry world has ever known, and you stop your damn bitchin' and moanin'."

Bobby looked around the kitchen, looking at each man in turn. "Do you understand me? Speak up now if I didn't make myself clear."

No-one said anything; even Crowley dropped his eyes respectfully as Bobby glared at him. The old hunter nodded.

"Good. Glad we all understand each other." He turned, starting out of the kitchen.

He paused, looking over his shoulder at Dean. "And go get the angel back," Bobby shot a soft look over at Cas. "That damn pigeon is family. And we don't leave family behind."

 

* * *

 

After several hours of discussing various plans about how they were going to get Gabriel back, everyone had been too exhausted to talk further and drifted off to various un-destroyed parts of the house to sleep. Everyone of course, except Dean.

He sat outside in the cold night air, back lying on one of Bobby's old junkers, staring up at the night sky. He rolled a beer bottle in his hands, mind uneasy and still crowded with too many thoughts and feelings.

He didn't even notice that Cas had joined him until the angel was leaning against the hood, his own face turned to the sky. They stood in silence for a moment, before Dean sighed, sitting up. The night air against his now exposed back made his skin prickle slightly.

"I'm sorry Cas," he said quietly. "Back there…I was a dick. I didn't mean any of it."

The angel shrugged, turning his eyes to Dean. "I believe I may have been as well. Today has been…difficult."

Dean nodded, his heart heavy as he shifted his legs into a more comfortable position. "Yeah. It has."

"They were good people," Cas glanced away, fingers playing with the frayed edge of his coat. "They did not deserve to die."

Dean felt his throat closing up again, and only nodded, taking another drink from the bottle in his hands. When the emotion eased, he cleared his throat.

"I know you tried. Three horsemen and a bunch of demons…you didn't have a chance Cas. I don't…I don't blame you."

The angel was staring at the beer bottle, eyes far away. "When Famine grabbed me, my only thought was _, I am going to die_." He shrugged his shoulders, eyes darting away. "Normally such a thing doesn't bother me, seeing as I have already died once-"

Dean chuckled. "Like a true Winchester."

Cas shot him a shy smile at that, and Dean felt himself relaxing. "I suppose so. But…I didn't want to die. Not this time. Not when I still had so much to fight for."

Dean smiled at him. "Can't tell you how glad I am you didn't, Cas."

_Wow that came out kind of gay._

Dean ducked his head, staring at the bottle in his hands. Cas shifted his hip more firmly into the side of the car, peering over at him curiously.

"You desire the comfort of things when you are sad," he remarked.

Dean silently sighed in relief at the change of topic. "Yeah well you know…a cold beer, a warm body."

Cas looked confused, brow furrowing as he contemplated this. "That…helps the sadness?"

Dean shrugged offhandedly. "Not really. But it makes you forget for a while."

Cas's eyes were like lasers as they locked onto his, and Dean felt himself freeze under their scrutiny.

"I don't want to forget, Dean," the angel said seriously. "I want to rejoice."

Dean didn't have to ask out loud. Cas smiled softly, the slight breeze playing with the belt on his coat and tugging it upwards as he shifted against the cold metal of the car.

"I want to rejoice in the fact that I met such wonderful, brave people. That I was blessed to have fought beside them, and rejoice that they are now at peace and their struggle is over." His eyes glittered in the darkness. "And to rejoice that I still live, as selfish as that may be, so that one day I may avenge their deaths."

Dean glanced away, watching the quiet junkyard in front of them. "That's mighty poetic, Cas." He took another slow gulp of beer. The liquid was cold and heavy against his tongue.

Cas continued to watch him, and Dean glanced over. There was a frustration in the those azure eyes. "Dean I…I  _want_  things. I didn't _want_ to die. I  _want_ to stop Lucifer and find Gabriel, and I  _want_ Ellen and Jo to be alive. I just…" The angel shook his head irritably. "Sometimes I don't know what to do with myself."

Dean swallowed, the beer settling as a heavy weight in his stomach. "I know Cas. I'm sorry. If it wasn't for me you'd still be a warrior of heaven right? I guess I just-"

Cas cut him off with a wave of his hand and an eye roll. Dean grinned at the look of exasperation aimed his way.

"Stop blaming yourself," Cas ordered. "Or shall I get Bobby to rehearse his speech again?"

Dean's low laughter carried across the yard, and the car creaked beneath him as he shook his head, still smiling.

"Got it. No moping."

They lapsed into an easy silence for a moment, watching the stars. It was Cas who broke it again, sighing into the night air and turning his face back to Dean.

"I lost a brother, and two wonderful friends today. The Colt did not work and my older brother is still at large bringing about the apocalypse. I believe I am in need of comfort too."

Dean glanced over, frowning slightly. "Well there's beer in the fridge…"

The angel shook his head. "I do not want an alcoholic beverage."

Dean blinked at him.  _What else do you want?_  Something clicked in his mind, and Dean winked at his friend.

"Well, I guess we can hit the nearest bar if you want… _company_   Cas," the words felt weird in his mouth.

 _Cas with someone?_  Now why did that make his stomach turn?

Cas shook his head, and Dean chose to ignore the sudden stab of relief that fluttered in his chest.

"No. I do not desire a night with a stranger, as pleasurable as that may be." The angel leant forward, his blue tie trailing along the hood of the car. "Dean, when I was facing down the horsemen and believed I was going to be killed…I only had one regret."

For some reason, Dean felt his heart suddenly begin to pound against his ribcage.

"Well that's pretty good going I guess," he said slowly. "Having only one, I mean."

The angel's eyes were bright, and Dean found himself stuck in them, unable to look away.

"Yes. In that moment Dean, my only regret was  _you_."

Dean sat there for a moment in stunned disbelief. "Me?" he repeated dumbly.

The angel nodded.

"Yes. That I had…never…" he sighed irritably, eyes darting down to stare at the car beneath him. His hands moved to his tie, wringing the fabric nervously. "Emotions are difficult for me to express."

Dean tried not to laugh out loud at that. Cas was trying to talk about something serious here, and the least he could do after being such a dick earlier, was to hear him out. "You and me both, man."

"Despite our differences and…  _altercations_ , you have always been important to me," Cas continued nervously as Dean snorted.

_Altercations my ass. They're called fights Cas._

"Perhaps in the beginning I did not understand, but these past months I have spent with you and Sam…have lent me a…greater understanding."

Dean rolled his eyes. "You wanna just get to the point Cas?"

The angel glared at him then. "Very well. I find I am in need of comfort. And I want it."

Dean blinked at him, and Cas looked back at him pointedly. "Comfort. From you."

Dean continued to blink at him, and Cas growled irritably, letting go of his tie long enough to throw his hands up in the air. "I want comfort, and I also want to give it. To  _you_."

Dean's brain was slowly starting to catch up with him.  _Can't be. You just misheard._ "Cas are you…did you just… _what_?"

Cas gave him a long suffering,  _humans-are-idiots_  look. "Dean, I would like to have intercourse with you."

_Oh._


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Graphic badly written sex this chapter! Woohoo!

_Oh. OH._

Dean took a deep breath, half-expecting Gabriel to jump out from behind one of the rusty junkers wearing a huge grin and shouting " _Surprise! I got you good!"_

But the minutes stretched on and no archangel was forthcoming. Cas was still looking at him expectantly.

"You want…to…uh…," Dean trailed off meekly, making an abortive hand gesture towards the waiting angel _._

Cas arched an eyebrow, so reminiscent of Gabriel it was scary. "Do you want me to be more specific? I was under the impression you knew what intercourse was."

Dean scowled over at him, shaking himself out of his blinking stupor as he held up a finger.

"Ok first of all, no-one says that word.  _Intercourse,_ " he managed, his voice sounding shrill to his own ears. "It's weird. Secondly… _what_ _the hell Cas!_ "

"Is it so surprising?" Cas folded his arms on the car hood, shrugging. "I have had a…fondness for you ever since I pulled your soul from hell. We have always shared a bond. I thought I was being fairly…obvious."

Dean's brain decided to just ignore the majority of that, and kicked into survival mode. He smirked slightly, Dean Winchester's patent _God –I-know-I'm-attractive_  smile in place. "Wow even my soul is sexy huh?"

The glare Cas gave him was a mixture of exasperation and fondness. "It is not just your physical appearance Dean, though I agree you are more attractive than most."

"Gee Cas, you make a girl feel so special." He fluttered his eyelashes for good measure.  _There we go, I can do this. Just laugh it off. Everything will be_ _ **fine**_ _, Cas was probably only joking….right?_

The angel ignored him, fingers pulling idly at a loose thread on his tie. "You have always been special to me, Dean. Though you can also be intensely  _aggravating_."

 _Shit._  They were back to staring at each other again. A response was needed, and he had to stop freaking out internally.

"Look Cas I…I don't do dudes alright?" Dean shifted his legs, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "I'm not…gay."

Cas smiled slightly. "Technically I am genderless. I only prefer to identify myself as male, and I happened to take a male vessel."

Oh yeah. That made it suddenly a million times  _easier_. Dean rolled his eyes. "That isn't helping."

Cas looked amused as he shifted against the metal of the car. "Would you prefer me female?"

Dean paused at that, trying to picture Cas in a female vessel. She'd be like a female Jimmy, dark hair, pale skin, big blue eyes. Maybe dressed in a skirt suit. Glasses. Those simple black pump heels and smooth legs, delicately curved. Shit, if Cas had been a girl he'd have been in her pants from day one. But it wouldn't have been  _Cas_.

Cas was a grumpy looking tax accountant, who was two parts badass, and one part naïve. He was an angel, soldier, free-thinker, a brother, and a friend. And  _definitely_  male shaped. Dean suddenly remembered the other night when Gabriel was playing dress up. Ellen and Jo pounding on the table and laughing, Cas stood there like a sad little kid being forced to dress up in ridiculous outfits. In a Metallica shirt.  _His_ shirt.

His stomach did a weird flop, and Dean shook his head slowly.

"No. I wouldn't. You're… _you,_  Cas. You know…dangly bits and all."

There was that damn eyebrow again. Cas really had been spending too much time with a certain Trickster. "Do you not find me attractive as a male?"

Dean groaned, hanging his head. "I can't believe we're having this conversation."

Time for some patented Winchester deflection and denial. Dean rolled the beer bottle in his hands, avoiding those bright blue eyes.

"What about Jimmy huh?" he challenged. "I'm pretty sure he wouldn't be too happy having his body banging a dude."

Cas got quiet, and Dean looked up to see the angel's face darkening. "Jimmy was destroyed when Raphael killed me. I pray daily that such a devout and good man has now found peace."

Wonderful. Now he was being an insensitive jerk as well as a stammering schoolgirl asked on her first date.

Dean shook his head, shoulders slumping. "Jesus Cas, I'm sorry." He really was. Jimmy had been a good man stuck in a shitty situation. He didn't deserve that. In the end, none of them did.

"Don't be," Cas said quietly. "I consider it a blessing in some ways; he does not have to experience any more pain or worry. I will keep my vow and watch over his family, and perhaps one day I will be able to meet his soul and apologize." The angel looked up into the night sky. "Now, this body is mine, for better or worse. I can make my own decisions concerning it."

Dean rolled the beer bottle on the hood idly, anything to keep from looking at his friend. "So we're back to the whole you wanting to have sex with me thing." There. He actually said it out loud.

Cas looked back over at him, face carefully neutral. "Is it that disgusting to you?"

 _No. I'm more worried about the fact that it's really,_ _ **really**_ _not._  He thought wildly. Cas was watching him, and Dean sighed with frustration, keeping his eyes on his beer bottle.

"No, okay?" he said irritably. "It's not disgusting. It's just…why  _me_  Cas? I'm not….I'm not the best choice you know. I've slept with a lot of women. And I'm proud of it."

_Mostly._

The angel pushed away from the car to stand up straight, tugging his tie again. "But you never found what you were looking for."

Dean looked up then, staring at him. "Excuse me?"

"Dean, before we were… _friends_ , I used to find you perplexing," Cas smiled, hands dropping from wringing his tie to rest against the cold metal of the car again. "More so than I do now. In an attempt to understand you, at first I used to try and gleam glimpses of your mind."

Dean frowned, tapping the beer bottle a little harder than he meant to on the hood. "I told you not to do that."

"I know, and I don't anymore," Cas said softly. "I understand  _now_  that such things are private. But back then…I saw many things."

Dean felt his cheeks redden, and he blinked furiously.

"What…what did you see?" he managed, his voice strangled.

Cas smiled knowingly at him. "I saw enough to understand that such experiences with women left you feeling empty. And your… _attempts_  with men were similar. You wanted to experience intercourse on a deeper level with someone you felt more than a fleeting attraction too." The angel paused, frowning slightly. "At first I did not understand what my involvement in such activities would accomplish, and why you thought of it so often."

Dean groaned, burying his face in his hands.  _Shit._  He was going to find a hole and just crawl in it and  _die_ , Bobby's inspirational speeches be damned. His big gay secret was out now, and worst of all, Cas had  _known._  All those late nights of waking up sweaty and panting from a vivid dream  _not_  involving a lovely busty beauty, but a damn stuck up angel in a trench coat had  _tortured_ him. And Cas had  _seen_.

"You know then," Dean said bitterly, his voice muffled by his hands. "Son-of-a-… all this time and you didn't say anything?"

Judging by the rustling of that damn trench coat, Cas had just shrugged. "I didn't want to make you uncomfortable."

"Mission failed.  _Miserably_."

"Dean, it's nothing to be ashamed of. I was confused then but…" Dean managed to risk a glance up, and found Cas's eyes soft, not judgmental. "I want to experience that. With you. When we were going to trap Raphael, and you told me…you told me you wouldn't let me die a virgin." The angel ducked his head shyly, smiling. "I was disappointed when I realized you meant taking me to a brothel."

Dean closed his eyes again, taking a deep breath. His mind was a mess of thoughts and emotions, and he felt a headache coming on.

"You're not about to just walk away and pretend we never had this conversation are you?" he asked wearily.

Cas didn't even look repentant, the bastard. "I'm afraid not. But I will leave if you wish me to. I don't want you to feel… _obligated_  or pressured in any way."

"Now we're getting back into creepy territory."

" _Dean_."

Dean turned to look at Cas fully with a sigh.  _Am I really thinking about this?_

Cas looked back, waiting. His hair twitched slightly in the night breeze, and Dean took his time to just  _look_.

Ok, so it wasn't much of a secret anymore that Dean had the hots for him. He couldn't help it; he'd always liked pretty things. Pretty cars, pretty women…and in the past few years, pretty  _men_. And Cas was definitely, absolutely, one of the most beautiful men he'd ever had the misfortune of meeting. And it wasn't just Jimmy's good looks. When Cas had done that disappearing act, and they'd been stuck with a hysterical mortal man in his place, Dean hadn't felt  _anything_. Jimmy just wasn't attractive to him. But the minute Cas came back, all high and mighty after Heaven had its way with him; bam. Dean had a good week or so of sleepless nights.

It had made him realize he liked Cas for  _Cas._  He had the hots for the  _angel_ , not the meat suit. And boy had  _that_ sent him into a spiral of denial, where he spent quite a few sticky nights bedding anything that moved just to try and get it out of his head. It hadn't worked, and he'd felt emptier than ever.

And now, here he was. The stupid angel who had just waltzed right into Dean's life and turned it all upside down. Who managed to piss him off and make him smile in the same heartbeat. Who had sacrificed everything, and asked for nothing in return. The selfless, amazing… _handsome_ , bastard wanted him.

_I am so screwed._

Dean swallowed hard, clearing his throat. "Ok. How about we…you know, start out small first. Then…see how it goes," Dean cringed internally.  _Oh god. Could this be anymore awkward?_

Cas nodded seriously, but something sparked in his eyes, and Dean felt that stupid flopping motion in his stomach again.

"Very well."

A minute passed, two, and Cas was still standing there awkwardly, staring at him. Dean sighed, rolling his eyes and setting the beer bottle down on the hood. "Cas, it generally works better when two people are… _touching_. Come closer."

Cas looked uncertain, but he gave a quick nod, bracing his hands on the hood and slowly crawling onto the car next to Dean. He wriggled slightly into a more comfortable position, leg brushing against Dean's. "Like this?"

Dean's heart was beating a stuttering staccato beat against his ribs. "Um…yeah."

His skin was too warm, his hand shaking as he reached out. His fingers curled into the beige fabric of the trench coat, and he tugged gently as his body worked at sending him into early cardiac arrest. The angel came willingly, sliding into Dean's side easily, and nervously, Dean moved his arm behind Cas's back. The two stared at each other, only a few inches apart.

Dean licked his lips nervously, and Cas's eyes tracked the movement.

"We're really gonna do this," the hunter said stupidly.

Cas nodded jerkily. "I believe so. Unless you wish to 'freak out' some more."

Dean glared at him, lips dangerously close to forming a pout. "I'm  _not '_ freaking out'. I'm…adjusting."

It felt like he was about to have his first kiss. He was fourteen again, a mess of sweaty palms and stuttering words, not sure where he was allowed to touch.  _Oh God what if I'm really bad at this? Cas'll never talk to me again. He'll leave-_

Castiel noticed that Dean's eyes had a panicked faraway look in them. Sighing to himself, he shook his head.

"Humans," he muttered, before tilting his face and moving forward, slotting his lips against Dean's.

Dean's thoughts slammed back down to earth with the force of a speeding train, then promptly scattered in all directions again as his brain short circuited at the sensation of warm firm lips against his own.

 _Cas_  lips.

There was a slow scrape of stubble against his chin, yet another reminder of  _who_  exactly he was currently kissing, and a jolt of excitement crackled up Dean's spine. A breathy exhale of air against his lips, and the angel was pulling away slightly, eyes opening slowly.

"Oh," Cas breathed. "That was-"

Before Cas could ruin the moment with some sort of scientific comment, Dean grabbed the back of his head, fingers sliding into the silky soft tendrils of inky black hair, pressing his mouth more firmly against the angel's. He felt the lips beneath his part in surprise, and took advantage of their opening to dart his tongue inside, tasting the dark corners of Cas's mouth.

It was the tentative touch of Cas's tongue to his that made his nerves hum and his chest tighten, and Dean's other hand grappled with the front of the trench coat, finding that stupid tie that never stayed straight, and grabbed it, wrapping it firmly around his hand as he tugged the angel harder against him.

There was a roaring in his ears as Cas grunted against his mouth, lips bolder now and moving more sensually against his.

 _Fast learner._  He thought numbly.

Dean felt a hand brush along his side, fingers sliding cautiously under the hem of his t-shirt and gliding along his clenching stomach. Cas's nose bumped his as Dean angled his head, his tongue pressing deeper as the angel coaxed him in. As if suddenly infused with a life of its own, Dean's hand left it's tight gripping of Cas's hair to push impatiently at his coat, and Cas obliged, pulling away long enough to shrug the trench and suit coat off his shoulders.

Dean blinked, pulling a deep lungful of air into his lungs in an attempt to ground himself. Without the trench, Cas looked much smaller, the white of his dress shirt standing out starkly in the darkness. The angel dropped his coats onto the hood, slipping the tie off as well.

He paused as he noticed Dean's gawking. "Are you…alright?" he asked worriedly.

_No, I think I'm about to self-combust. From a bit of_ _**kissing,** _ _Christ._

Dean grinned at the concern in the angel's voice, eyes bright. "Oh yeah." He reached out to grab Cas's arm again, encouraging the angel to move back towards him. "I'm feeling pretty good right about now."

Cas smiled softly, and they were kissing again.

They took their time, mouths and tongues sliding against each other slickly. Dean tugged the white dress shirt free of Cas's pants and was rewarded with a groan against his lips as he slid his hands beneath it, along the warm skin of Cas's stomach and chest.

His fingers tweaked a nipple playfully and Cas pulled away with a startled yelp, and Dean pressed his advantage to mouth wet kisses along the pale column of the throat exposed to him as the angel arched against him.

It was so easy, not at all like he had been expecting. This felt…right.

Dean lost track of time, swept up in the sensation of just  _being_ with Cas. Each kiss, every touch was for him, and  _only_ him. This wasn't just some floozy bar wench who would tiptoe out in the morning. This was  _Cas._ It made his head spin and heart pound. This wasn't just about comfort, and what Cas needed. This is what  _they_ needed, and it had always been each other.

Good  _god_  he needed to spend less time with Sam. The giant woman was rubbing off on him.

It was a knee, snug between his thighs and pressing upwards that finally brought the hunter back down to Earth. Blearily, Dean blinked up at the angel breathing hard above him, struggling to remember when exactly it was he had ended up on his back and Cas hovering over him; one leg straddled over his hip, the other pressing insistently up against his groin. He bit his lip with a groan, arching his back as Cas shifted against him, and Cas darted down, sliding slick kisses along his neck and jaw.

"Cas," he breathed, beginning to feel light-headed again. "I um…"

The angel pulled away to blink down at him. His hair was at crazy angles, shirt partially open and the beginnings of stubble burn beginning to mar the pale skin around his mouth and along the underside of his jaw. He looked as wrecked as Dean felt.

"Yes, Dean?"

Oh holy mother Teresa on a Popsicle stick. The angel's voice sounded a whole octave lower, like he'd been chugging whisky and smoking non-stop for the past hour instead of sucking Dean's soul out through his mouth and  _melting his brain_. Dean swallowed hard, trying to control his raging hormones and think with his upstairs brain.

"This is… _awesome_  and all but I'm…" he grunted as Cas shifted, his leg nudging up against the place where Dean was so freakin', achingly _hard_. "I can't take much more."

At Cas's quizzical expression, Dean shut his eyes, his head clunking against the body-warm metal beneath him as he dropped it back down. "Don't make me say it Cas."

When he opened his eyes again, the angel was looking decidedly  _wicked,_  and his pulse quickened again, skin tingling.

"Perhaps…I can help you with that."

Dean chuckled. "Dude, we have to work on your pillow talk. That's not ex—AAH."

He hissed as without further ado, Cas's fingers were suddenly on him, tracing the straining shape of him through the denim of his jeans. With a strangled curse, Dean grabbed his hand, stilling its motions as he desperately thought about anything and everything to get him to cool down.

_Old ladies. Wrinkly old ladies. NAKED wrinkly old ladies. Bobby in spandex. Crowley in spandex. Wait he'd probably be into that. Or some kinky latex shit. Wait, what was Cas in the other night? It was like a latex suit wasn't it? Oh man Cas in latex…Shit. Thanks for nothing brain._

Cas smiled down at him, eyes such a dark blue they looked almost black in the darkness. "Dean, please. Let me," he murmured, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to the corner of the hunter's mouth. Dean sighed, turning his face towards the angel's, nose bumping Cas's cheek.

"Not here," he gave in. "The car. Backseat."

Cas pulled away, sliding off the hood gracefully, and Dean shivered as the cool night air hit his exposed front. Sitting up, he grabbed the hem of his shirt, tugging the slightly damp fabric up and over his head, tossing it onto the hood as he slid off.

As his feet hit the ground, Dean almost found himself face down in the dirt as his legs wobbled dangerously. He threw out a hand to steady himself on the car, shooting a dark look at the smug look Cas was sporting as the angel ducked into the backseat, long fingers already working on his shirt buttons.

"Oh it is  _on_  angel-boy."

The old junker didn't have any doors on it, but the backseat was still in relatively good condition. The old leather creaked as Dean slid in, Cas already settled on the one side. The angel had managed to get his buttons undone and shucked the shirt down his arms, dropping it on the floor as Dean stared at the bare skin finally revealed to him.

He had never seen Cas shirtless. He had a slimmer build than Dean, more graceful looking, but  _definitely_  not feminine. Suddenly Dean was nervous all over again, his stomach a roiling mess of molten lava.

 _What the actual_ _ **fuck**_ _Winchester?_ He growled irritably to himself.  _You're no blushing virgin._

But Cas was, wasn't he? Well, maybe not so much  _blushing_. The angel moved towards him on his knees, swinging one leg over and settling on Dean's lap like he belonged there. Dean breathed hard though his nose as he felt the unmistakable nudge of Cas's arousal against his stomach as the angel settled more firmly down on him.

"Should I be worried you're a natural at this?" Dean hissed out between clenched teeth. Cas merely grinned down at him, knees bracketed either side of Dean's thighs, as he ground his hips down in a slow circle. Dean cursed, eyes almost crossing as Cas braced his hands on the creaking leather seat behind them to gain more leverage.

Cas was riding him like a damn cowboy, and he was going to  _die._  They hadn't even gotten their pants off yet. God help him.

Deciding to try and claim back some of the control, Dean's fingers toyed with the soft cotton waistband of the tenting black dress pants in front of him. Cas's rhythm stuttered, the angel staring down at him with wide, wrecked eyes.

"Dean…"

He didn't get any further, biting off a groan as Dean finally managed to undo the button and reach inside. The hunter grinned triumphantly up at the suddenly shaking angel.

"What was that? I didn't catch what you said," he said smugly as he gave the angel an experimental stroke. Cas's hips spasmed, grinding down  _hard_  and Dean temporarily forgot he was supposed to be the one in control.

"Enough," Cas growled, the low sound sparking another jolt of lust sizzle along Dean's spine. "No more… _ah_ …teasing."

His hips were riding Dean's again and Dean bit his lip hard enough to draw blood.

"Teasing?" he asked incredulously. "I'm gonna... _oh fuck…_ "

He was going to come in his pants like a goddamn teenager. Cas growled again, his hips stuttering to a halt and one hand leaving its death grip on the leather seat to reach out in the darkness.

Dean cried out, so hard he was  _aching_ ; as the angel popped his jeans open, moving inside his boxers like he  _owned_ the place, gripping Dean hard around the base of his cock.

"Not yet," Cas's mouth was by his ear, and Dean pressed his cheek against the angel's, gasping hotly into his hair.

"Jesus Cas, who's teasing who now?" his voice was strangled, echoing in the snug confines of the car. " _C'mon_."

Cas eyes were glittering as he pulled back. He nudged his hips against Dean's again, hand still squeezing the twitching hunter firmly. " _Not yet,_ " he murmured, mouth curling in a sinful smile. "I want you inside me."

Dean was pretty sure his eyes just rolled into the back of his head and dribbled out his ears.  _So much for starting out small._

His skin felt two sizes too small, stretching painfully across his bones, his nerves drawn tight, singing with desire. " _Son of a-_ I'm definitely not g…gonna make it. God _dammit_  Cas."

The angel had shifted up, releasing Dean long enough to push his pants further down his thighs as he wriggled in the confined space of the car.

"That's blasphemy Dean." He chided, and Dean managed to gather his brain together enough to shoot a dark glare at the angel's bowed head.  _How can you still sound so calm?_

Dean rested his head back on the seat, desperately counting down from one hundred. He winced as Cas settled back down on him, the angel's fingers unfathomably slippery as they stroked him more gently. The reality of what Cas was intending to do hit him then, and he protested weakly as the angel shifted around on his lap, hands resting on the the thighs that settled around his hips.

"Cas… _ah…_ it's too soon, you gotta…gotta prepare for that. I'll..." his voice stuttered off in a groan as he felt the unmistakable warmth of Cas's bare ass settling over him. "I'll  _hurt you_."

Cas kissed him, tongue dragging a wet line over his lips, before pulling back. "No you won't. Trust me."

The angel's eyes were desperate, and Dean felt that weird tightening in his chest again. He leant up, pulling the angel back down into a deep kiss.

"Okay," he murmured against Cas's lips. "But if I…I hurt you we  _stop_. G…got it?"

His answer was another needy kiss, Cas's tongue claiming his aggressively, and Dean forgot how to breathe as the angel slowly sank down on him, as easily as if they'd been at this for hours.

He was burning up; he was going to go up in flames and there'd be nothing left but a sorry pile of ashes for his brother to weep over, but he didn't  _care_. The devil could appear right now and set the whole world on fire and he wouldn't blink, just as long as Cas never, _ever_ stopped.

He didn't know where Cas ended and he began as the angel rode him; hips sinking down and Dean thrusting up to meet him, mouths colliding desperately in the dark. Cas's eyes were glittering opaque pools, wet tendrils of black hair pasted to his sweaty forehead as he stared wildly down at the shuddering hunter beneath him. Dean rolled his hips up sharply, forcing breathless grunts from those shiny parted lips, and Cas 's eyes fluttered shut.

Something powerful was humming just beneath his skin; his nerves snapping and crackling as fire raced along them, and Dean muffled a curse against Cas's neck. He could feel the pulse pounding beneath his cheek, a fluttering beat that echoed his own, and the sound of it seemed to fill the cramped car interior; the air too close. Cas was gasping, sounding like a wounded animal as he arched against the hunter, murmuring words Dean didn't understand.

His hands were splayed on those slim hips, and Dean dug his fingers into the pale skin as he felt himself balancing on the edge of something amazing.

"Cas…" he mumbled brokenly. "Cas, I'm gonna…"

" _Yes,_ " the angel hissed, teeth bared in a snarl as he clamped down, hands clutching at Dean's biceps as his thighs tightened around Dean's hips, locking him deep inside.

Dean was lost, tumbling down the rabbit hole as he held onto Cas for dear life. The fire that had been sinisterly crackling just beneath his skin turned into a fireball, finally engulfing him and swallowing him whole.

 

* * *

 

It was the chirping of a bird, and the cool kiss of a gentle breeze against his skin that brought Castiel back to wakefulness. Sleeping was still a relatively new concept to him, and he frowned unhappily, eyes still closed as he tried to gather his thoughts. He was lying on something…leather. Sticky. He shifted cautiously, and winced as a twinge of pain shot up his spine.

The previous evening suddenly flooded back into him in a disjointed mirage of images, and Castiel relaxed, smiling slightly as he felt the warm press of a body against his legs.

_Dean._

There was a warm breath against his cheek, and the angel shifted, still unwilling to open his eyes and risk the bright light. The warmth panted more strongly at his movement, and Castiel frowned, turning his head away slightly.

"Dean I appreciate your enthusiasm, but I believe I may require more sleep before we…resume," he grumbled good naturedly.

There was a shuffle from outside the car, and the sound of a ceramic glass hitting the earth. Slowly Castiel opened his eyes. He found himself looking out of the car, the world upside down. Standing a little ways away, one coffee mug in his hand, the other oozing its contents over the dry earth, stood Dean. His eyes were wide, mouth gaping open as he stood, staring in shocked horror at the car.

Castiel froze. The hot panting against his skin was still there. Slowly, he craned his head to look inside the interior.

Fenrir sat just outside the car, his large head and forepaws leaning in to rest on the backseat alongside Castiel's inert lower body. The giant wolf cocked his head, eyes curious.

" _Hello, Uncle_."


	9. Chapter 9

War's angry voice boomed throughout the motel, and every demon present winced at the answering echo of yet another piece of furniture meeting its violent end. The honeymoon suite was in even worse condition than before; shards of splintered wood and shattered glass littered the carpet as War furiously stalked around the room. The horseman's eyes were blackened and blue, his nose taped with gauze as he cast around for something else to vent his frustrations on.

"She broke my nose!" he screamed, seizing an untouched pillow from the bed, and in one motion ripped it straight down the middle. A plume of feathers erupted into the air as the horseman shook and raged at the pitiful scrap of material. "That little  _bitch_ of a human broke my fucking nose!"

Pestilence sighed, plucking a wayward feather that had landed in the sticky pus trails lining his mouth. He studied it for a moment as War continued to stomp around the room.

"Take it down a notch little brother," he murmured, flicking the feather away from him. "She's dead now, I killed her myself."

War turned on him, his eyes glinting with the promise of violence, mouth twisted in a snarl.

"Yeah and you did it too damn  _quick,_ " he hissed. "She should have  _suffered._ "

Pestilence shook his head, settling himself more comfortably in the only untouched spot of floor War hadn't thrown something at. He scratched idly at a weeping sore on the back of his hand, digging his dirty fingernails into the enflamed flesh. With any luck he'd get an infection.

"She overturned Famine's wheelchair too you know," he remarked. "I don't hear him complaining."

The horseman in question had been wheeled into the corner of the room by a nervous looking demon. He slumped there, breathing heavily and had been watching War's tantrum with amused yellowed eyes. He grinned toothily at Pestilence as his name was mentioned.

War shot a glare at both horsemen, shrugging sullenly. "Well that's cause it was  _hilarious._  The bony bastard never knew what hit him. Man, your  _face_."

Famine's hand shook as he raised it, thin fingers struggling to muster up the energy to flip a rude gesture at his brother.

"Drama…Queen," Famine wheezed. War growled something under his breath, sticking his tongue out childishly as Famine chuckled to himself, dropping his hand back down onto the armrest of his wheelchair.

Pestilence shook his head, looking over at the opposite corner of the room at the silent figure who hadn't said anything. "You see what I have to deal with?"

Death had procured the only surviving chair in the room. He sat demurely, leaning back with his legs crossed, long fingers idly tapping against his leg, his other hand resting on his cane. He was frowning.

"You were always too hot headed War," the oldest horseman said absently. "Now sit down and shut up. I'm trying to think."

Chastened, War sulked over to Pestilence, sliding down the wall to join his brother on the floor. Pestilence gave him a sympathetic pat to the knee that left a wet stain, and War grimaced at him, wiping his pants angrily, still muttering.

Slowly Death leant forward, the chair creaking beneath him, and his dark eyes glittering. "Instead of throwing childish fits, I believe we should discuss our current situation. To be exact,  _why_  Lucifer has summoned us."

War shrugged one shoulder churlishly, pressing his fingers carefully against his taped nose. "We don't know. Kinda hoped you have some answers; you're the brains of the family after all."

Death looked at War disdainfully. "Believe it or not, the dead don't say much. I was only just starting to hear some rumbles that you idiots had been summoned. Now-" he snorted angrily. "Look what's happened." He leant back in the chair, frowning as he resumed tapping his fingers against one thigh. "We haven't been in the same room together for close to a millennia. I've been here five minutes and I'm already sick of you. Could you at least  _try_ not to annoy me?"

Pestilence grinned, gums bleeding as he elbowed War in the side. "Oh Death, we didn't know you  _cared._ "

There was a dry rustle, and suddenly, Satan was among them.

Lucifer looked around the room, smirking. "Well I'm glad you're enjoying the family reunion. So touching."

Death leaned forward, jet black eyes stern. The devil looked tired, he noted; dark bags had formed under his eyes and his cheeks were gaunt. The toll of running the apocalypse was beginning to show.

"I assume we are to play some role in your plans for the domination of heaven," Death said dryly, tapping his cane against the carpet. "I regret to inform you that I have little interest in your plans."

Lucifer chuckled, hands behind his back as he rocked on the balls of his feet. "Oh Death. Your  _interests_  are no concern of mine. I summoned you to serve me. Do what I want and I'll release you. You'll be back to touching old ladies in no time."

Death scowled angrily. "You should show me more respect, child," he threatened. "I was reaping before you were  _created_  you arrogant little pri-"

Pestilence butted in before Death could get any further. "And  _what_  exactly do you want from us?"

Lucifer's gaze didn't waver from Death's. "Well that would be telling wouldn't it?" he said softly. "Why ruin the surprise when we're so close?"

Death struggled to control his anger, his hand gripping his cane so tight there was a creaking sound. "I don't appreciate being leashed then not told why," he murmured, eyes flashing.

Lucifer shrugged. "Noted and disregarded," he said coolly, finally turning away.

Death shook his head, forcing himself to relax and sink back into the chair. Let the little brat think he was in control. "I'd ask you to reconsider this… _endeavor_ of yours, but I have a feeling it won't do much good."

"You'd be right," Lucifer said, eyes glancing around the ruined room. "Now that you're here we can really get the party started. Final preparations are nearly in place, I'm not about to stop now."

Pestilence frowned. "I heard you had rustled up some dragons," he remarked. "I don't suppose they're part of this plan you have for us?"

War stopped cautiously prodding his nose at that, and looked up with bloodshot eyes. "Don't be  _stupid,_ " he growled at his brother. "Dragons died out a long time ago. I should know, I was  _there_."

Death tapped his cane against the floor again. "Not exactly a problem for the Devil though is it?" Lucifer shot a glance at him, but the horsemen purposefully didn't look at him, a bored expression on his thin face.

Pestilence was not about to give up so easily. Clearing his lungs with a phlegmy cough, he wiped the back of his hand on his shirt. "What do you need them for?" he asked curiously. "Only thing they're good at is hoarding gold and virgins. Both of which are hard to find in this day and age."

"It is none of your concern," the devil said curtly. He placed his hands on his hips as the horsemen glanced at each other with disbelieving eyes, tapping his foot against the floor.

"We're ushering in a new era gentlemen!" the devil exclaimed. "How about a little more  _enthusiasm_?"

War glared up at him, holding up his hand. "I lost a finger and got my nose broken.  _Fuck_  your new era, AND the enthusiasm you rode in on. This  _sucks,_ " he said bitterly.

Pestilence clucked his tongue sympathetically, throwing a hand against his sweaty forehead dramatically. "Oh phooey, there goes your hopes of being crowned prom queen. Shame, you showed such  _promise_."

Famine wheezed with amusement as War spluttered, glaring murderously at his brother as Pestilence merely grinned at him.

"You know what? Screw you _all!_ " he screeched angrily, finally finding his voice and pointing wildly around the room. " _ESPECIALLY_  you, Lucifer. Fuck  _you_ , and  _you_ and  _YOU_  and even yo-"

War's tirade was interrupted as a demon hurried into the room, dark hair flying. She bowed her head quickly, keeping her eyes to the floor as she took a deep shaky breath.

"Sire it has begun. The angel-"

Lucifer cut her off with a wave of his hand and the demon fell silent, waiting.

"Very well. Thank you, Meg." The devil turned back to the horsemen, smiling serenely as he spread his hands. "Well this has been… _enlightening_. But if you could excuse me gentlemen, I'm needed elsewhere."

War peered suspiciously over at the demon, huffing. "And when do we get to play with the angel huh?" he demanded. "I have a  _score_  to settle."

Lucifer's eyes flashed angrily, but his calm serene smile never faltered. "Never," he said calmly. "You keep your filthy horseman hands away from him."

And just like that, he was gone. Pestilence scowled at the spot the devil had stood. "You know, I'm really starting to dislike that guy."

Death rolled his eyes with a deep weary sigh. "You and everyone else in the cosmos."

 

* * *

 

There had been only a few times in his life when he had been  _really_  impressed by something. Once was when Dean had discovered how many corn dogs he could fit in his mouth at one time. Another was when he first met Jessica. Another still when he found out that he could kill demons with his mind. But this moment right here? This was  _definitely_  up there with those.

Sam stared in barely concealed awe at the creature currently inhabiting Bobby's restored living room. Crowley had managed to recoup enough of his powers to fully restore the house, and it looked pretty much normal again. It just missed two certain people, but Sam was trying desperately not to think of  _that._ He had been woken up by a pretty freaked Dean, who had been shouting about a big ass dog in the yard. Bobby had yelled at him to shut up and stop drinking, but then Castiel had appeared with said dog in tow and Sam had to say…that was one  _big ass dog_.

Fenrir sat serenely in the middle of the living room, forepaws stretched in front of him. Lying down on his stomach, his head still reached Sam's waist, and the youngest Winchester found himself staring openly at the powerful white fangs that flashed every time the creature spoke.

Bobby rubbed his eyes tiredly, stifling a yawn as he found himself having to deal with yet another supernatural creature on his doorstep.

"Ok someone run this by me again. Who are you and why are you here?" he asked wearily.

Did the wolf just smile? Was that possible? Sam's head was going to explode with questions in a minute.

" _My apologies for not announcing my presence earlier,_ " the black wolf said. " _However, I decided to wait until this morning to greet you all. My name is Fenrir."_

Crowley leant against the wall, looking bored. The panic room was restored but no-one had really thought to put him back in there. There didn't seem much point considering. "Oh really? And why was that? We could have used your furry ass when some horsemen were paying us a visit you know."

Fenrir dipped his head in acknowledgement. " _The loss of your comrades saddens me. If I had arrived earlier, believe that I would have leant my assistance. Unfortunately I was not present then. It takes time to travel to your world from Asgard, as I unfortunately was not born with wings._ " The wolf glanced over at Castiel, who sat quietly on the couch, Dean hovering nearby. " _I did not wish to disturb you last night Uncle, so I waited until this morning._ "

Uncle. That was so weird to hear. Sam glanced over at him and the angel cleared his throat, avoiding everyone's eyes. "I…thank you Fenrir. I was busy…reapplying some of the wards." Dean shifted next to him, and the angel shot a brief glance at him before turning his attention back to the creature in front of him. "You have changed your mind about helping us?"

Fenrir did that weird dog smiling thing again. Man, Sam wanted to pet him. That was probably a bad idea. " _I was always going to help my Father. There was never a question of my loyalty._ "

Sam shook his head bewilderedly at that, holding up a hand to halt the conversation. "Wait a minute, I'm having a bit of trouble here. Father?"

The wolf looked over at him with bright gold eyes. " _I forget how little you mortals remember of our Nordic ways._ " He shifted his large body, nails digging into the carpet as he breathed out a chuffing sigh. " _Listen closely then human, for I will not repeat it. Loki fathered three children with the giantess_ _Angrboða_ _. There was Fenrir the great wolf, prophesized to one day kill Odin himself,_ _Jörmungandr, the world serpent who spans the earth and seas, and Hel,_ _who rules over the dead realm of Niflheim_."

Sam blinked. This was like a geeky research dream come true. "You…have a serpent as a brother?"

Fenrir dipped his head again. Sam decided it was the wolf's way of nodding. " _Indeed. Loki also gave birth to Sleipnir, Odin's eight legged steed, when he took the form of a mare and mated with_   _Svaðilfari_ _."_

Everyone stared at the wolf, eyes wide as this information was processed. Crowley was the first to break it, chuckling loudly.

"And I thought us demons were kinky."

Sam was going to have to scrub his brain with bleach at all the mental images he was having right now. "Gabriel gave birth to a  _horse_?" he squeaked.

Castiel shook his head impatiently. "It is of little import, Sam," he frowned at the wolf, leaning forward, his arms on his knees as he studied the creature in front of him. "If you were willing to help, then why did you leave after Gabriel revealed to you his true nature?"

Fenrir turned his intense gaze to the angel. " _My apologies again, Uncle. I had someone I needed to locate urgently after you visited Asgard. In truth, I was not surprised by my Father's admission. There has always been something different about Loki," t_ he wolf barked out a deep gruff sound, and with a smile, Sam realized it was a laugh. " _Perhaps that is why the gods always feared him so. My Father and his offspring are not always…_ _ **welcome**_ _, in Asgard."_

"Well great," Bobby grumbled. "But what exactly can you help us with? Dunno if you've noticed, but your daddy isn't here. Got himself captured by the devil."

The growl that filled the small room was loud, and Sam flinched as he felt the sound reverberate in his chest. Fenrir's eyes were angry slits as he looked over at the old hunter, tail flicking restlessly as his ears flattened.

" _I am aware. Lucifer has taken my Father to a small complex. I believe you mortals call them 'motels.' It is my intention to retrieve him."_

Crowley was inspecting his nails, and glanced up at that, frowning. "And what makes you think we're about to just run off and put ourselves in trouble, all over again I might add, for him?"

It was Castiel who answered him. The angel shifted on the sofa, turning hard eyes towards the demon. "If you remember, I believe you made a deal."

Crowley groaned, eyes upturned to the ceiling. "I  _knew_  that would backfire."

Ignoring the muttering demon, the angel turned back to Fenrir. "We have no weapons that would work against Lucifer. Attempting to breach this… _motel,_  with Lucifer and the horsemen inside, is suicide," he shook his head helplessly, fingers splaying against his knee. "As much as it pains me to admit, I am unsure we will be able to rescue Gabriel that way."

Those golden eyes looked back at the angel, unflinching. " _Lucifer is powerful, yes, but he is not expecting such a bold move on our behalf. I believe the element of surprise may weigh in our favor."_

Dean finally decided to contribute to the conversation, and Sam flinched as his brother stepped forward aggressively.  _Don't piss off the demi-god Dean._ He silently pleaded.

"Surprise didn't work so great for us last time," Dean growled. "You're going to have to give us something better than that."

Fenrir watched him amusedly, flicking one ear absently. " _You did not have a Norse god with you last time. I am not bound by the same rules that extend to the angels. Lucifer expected you."_  Both ears flattened as he bared his teeth in a grimace, fangs gleaming white against his black gums. " _Lucifer believes all the lower deities have fled in fear. Most have. But not Fenrir."_ Sam felt a rush of fear as the wolf rose to his paws, his large form an intimidating sight as he bared his teeth. " _In his arrogance, Lucifer does not expect any of us to fight. My presence should be …unexpected."_

Dean didn't look convinced as he crossed his arms, boldy staying put even at the sight of a standing Fenrir. "You're  _sure_  where Lucifer took Gabriel?"

Fenrir nodded again. " _Yes. The horsemen are not present, Lucifer has moved them."_  Something softened in the great wolf's eyes as he slowly moved forward, his body dwarfing Dean's in stature as he approached the human. " _Do not fear mortal, my Uncle will be safe in my keeping."_

Dean looked uncomfortable, finally backing away from the wolf. "Cas? You wanna weigh in on this plan?" he asked nervously.

The angel studied the standing wolf closely. "If you believe we can safely rescue Gabriel despite Lucifer's presence…then I am most certainly  _in_."

Dean balked at that, turning wide eyes to the angel. "What? But Cas, an  _archangel_ couldn't fight him. And with your…waning powers…" he gestured helplessly. "You'll be like a newborn lamb thrown in front of a starving wolf." Dean glanced back at Fenrir. "I mean…no offence," he added hurriedly.

Sam braced himself for another fight to break out, but was pleasantly surprised when Cas merely smiled amusedly as he gazed up at the eldest Winchester. "I appreciate your concern, Dean. However I believe my powers will be sufficient to retrieve Gabriel with Fenrir's help. Besides," the angel turned his gaze towards Crowley, still leaning against the wall. "Crowley will be going with me."

Caught like a deer in the headlights, the demon's eyes widened as he froze. "What? No I'm bloody well  _not_."

Bobby glared at him. "If the angel says you're going, you're going." He growled, jaw set and eyes flinty from beneath the visor of his cap. Crowley waved his hands in front of him frantically, eyes desperate as they darted from person to person to wolf.

"Um, hello, I'm kind of on Hell's most wanted list. The last place I want to go is anywhere  _near_  the devil!"

Castiel seemed unmoved by the demon's pleas. "You have an obligation to me and my brother. We help you, you help us remember?"

The look the demon gave him was anything but friendly. "I hate you. So bloody much."

Fenrir bared his teeth, and the demon fell silent. " _You will accompany my Uncle. Or I will rip your weak heart from your chest and gorge on your entrails."_

Crickets could almost be heard in the deathly silence that followed the wolf's words. Crowley's shoulders slumped as he admitted defeat.

"Well when you put it _that_  way…what are we waiting for?" he asked weakly.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Potential Trigger Warnings: Discussion of non-con (not sexual, but still a violation), angel breeding (kind of mpreg but not physical- magical grace babies I dunno lol), miscarriage type situation (not totally but it's the only way to describe it), death of a child, violence.

Castiel studied the distant cheerful sign mounted boldly out along the roadside, proclaiming the Preston Inn to be "Affordable Luxury for Affordable Prices." No doubt the owner was not expecting Satan to take him up on the offer.

The motel had not been difficult to find with Fenrir leading the way. The wolf had been a dark blur on the ground as Castiel had flown above; long legs striding to keep ahead of the streaking oily blackness that was Crowley. No doubt the three had made an odd sight, but their approach had gone unnoticed.

Demons patrolled the outside of the building, accompanied by hellhounds that barked and snuffled to each other as their irritated handlers tugged on their leashes. The three supernatural beings kept out of sight, sticking to the shadows of the tree line flanking the motel.

Crowley shifted nervously from foot to foot, and Castiel looked up sharply at him from his crouched position. The demon was sweating, tugging nervously on the collar of his shirt. Fenrir crouched low to the ground nearby, eyes focused on the patrolling demons.

"Second thoughts?" Castiel asked wryly. Crowley snorted, fingers leaving his collar to drop limply to his sides where they continued to twitch.

"All the damn time," he muttered.

Castiel resumed watching the motel, trained eyes looking for a weak link in the perimeter that might enable them access. He had spotted one demon, patrolling alone and without a hellhound that might be the solution, when his attention was drawn back to the unhappy demon beside him. Crowley was frowning, shuffling backwards and muttering to himself. As Castiel watched him incredulously, the demon wriggled around, seemingly discontent with something. He finally settled; moving to Castiel's other side and re-positioning himself. Noticing a pair of blue eyes on him, the demon shrugged unapologetically.

"Just moving downwind. You  _reek_  of Winchester."

Castiel stiffened, eyes widening with shock. He was sure he heard an amused huff from Fenrir as Crowley rolled his eyes, the demon waving one hand dismissively.

"Oh  _relax,_  Sandy. I won't tell anyone about your unlocked chastity belt."

Castiel swallowed hard, wishing he still had the power to smite demons with only a touch. There seemed little point in denying it if the demon could… _smell_ things, and Castiel refused to be embarrassed. Embarrassment implied he was regretful of his actions last night, and Castiel could  _never_ regret Dean. He shifted his legs, ignoring the slight burn as he moved and the demon smirked at him.

"And I suppose I'm meant to be grateful?" the angel ground from between clenched teeth. "I'm surprised you didn't inform everyone immediately."

The demon snorted. "Oh yeah that would go over well. I'm not telling the moose that his brother is banging the angel in the backyard. I _like_ my little greasy demonic soul where it is, thank you."

"How noble of you," Castiel said dryly.

Crowley frowned thoughtfully. "And at least you picked the smaller one. Can you imagine getting ploughed by Sam Winchester? Don't get me wrong, I'm sure the boy is very talented, but that giant would snap me in  _half_." Crowley curled his tongue behind his teeth, eyes glinting. "What a way to go though."

The angel groaned, turning back towards the motel. "I am going to ignore you now," Castiel informed him as the demon merely cackled to himself.

Fenrir shifted, turning his serious gaze towards them both. " _I believe our opening has arrived._ "

Castiel glanced in the direction the wolf had been looking, to find a demon had abandoned his post; choosing instead to sidle up to a disgruntled looking female demon who did not seem as infatuated with his presence as he was with hers.

The angel nodded firmly. "Good." He reassured himself that his angel blade was still to hand, feeling its solid weight against his arm. He glanced at the wolf beside him, pausing. "Fenrir, are you sure you will be able to keep the demons occupied as we search for Gabriel?"

The great wolf grinned at him, mouth open wide as he panted, eyes bright. " _Oh yes. It has been many moons since Fenrir last tasted the thrill of the jakt-the hunt. It is a fire in my veins that must be slated. I will enjoy this."_

Crowley arched an eyebrow. "Wow. A dog after my own heart. Though you can just say it like a normal person you know. You're gonna eat yourself some demons." At Fenrir's dark glower, the demon slapped his forehead sarcastically. "Oh right, giant evil wolf. I almost forgot you're not a normal  _person_."

Castiel moved forward, keeping low to the ground and his wings firmly tucked against his back and out of sight. With a sigh and muttered curse, Crowley followed him, casting worried glances around him as the two moved down the embankment and towards the motel.

Fenrir grinned as he rose to his full height. Keeping his huge head low, he stole forward silently, large paws whispering through the grass as he padded towards the unsuspecting demons. His blood ran hot and fast, his legs trembling with the expectation of a good hunt at last. The Norse God had spent many quiet and lonely years roaming the snowy wastes, living a life of solitude and relative peace after being exiled from Asgard. He had forgotten how much he craved the battles of old, the spurts of body warmed blood as it flowed through his teeth; the life giving liquid ripped from the throats of his enemies. He was Fenrir, the black wolf of Death, King of the Northern packs, one dark day the Slayer of the All Father, and son of Loki. And as discovered very recently, the odd bastard wolf child of an archangel.

Lucifer would pay for what he taken. They all would.

" _You will fear me."_ The demons didn't notice him until it was far, far too late. _"Unfettered will fare the Fenris Wolf, and ravage the realm of men."_

* * *

 

Castiel hurried down the ruined corridor of the motel, trying to ignore the terrible screams and howls emanating from outside. Crowley followed closely, whistling quietly as a particularly ghastly screech was hastily cut off, trailing into a wet gurgle.

"Wow. That mutt doesn't mess around does he?"

Castiel ignored him, reaching out tenuously with his grace, searching for Gabriel's. He could sense the weak flutter of the older angel's grace, and his eyes hardened. He turned right, down another ruined hallway littered with broken furniture, stepping over the slumped decomposing body of an unfortunate maid.

Crowley grimaced, picked his way delicately over the maid, and tiptoeing through the broken shards of glass. "Someone should fire the maid. What a mess. Oh look, someone already did!"

His amazingly witty humor went unnoticed and the demon nearly walked straight into Castiel's rigid back as the angel froze in front of one of the wooden doors.

"He is inside."

Crowley peered around the angel curiously. "Room 66?" he asked incredulously.

Some bright spark had taken a slathering of the maid's blood and traced out another 6 on the door; the blood crusted and flaking, roughly making room 66, more aptly, 666. Crowley poked at it, looking distinctly unimpressed.

"Come on, that's just  _tacky_. I mean really-"

The demon blinked as without further ado, Castiel leant back and throwing his leg out, broke the door down with one kick; the door bursting inward beneath the demon's hand. Crowley blinked as the angel angrily pushed past the fallen door, moving into the room.

"Well. So much for subtle," the demon remarked.

Castiel ignored him, hurrying towards one of the beds that had been pushed up against the wall. Gabriel was there, lying on his back and eyes closed. Castiel was at his side immediately, hand touching his face lightly. "Gabriel?"

The archangel's face was pale and sweaty, his hair damp and sticking in wet curls to his forehead. His eyes opened slightly as Castiel touched him, his eyes glazed and far away.

"Where is she?" Gabriel murmured, gazing confusedly up at Castiel, one arm rising weakly. Castiel shushed him gently, fingers entwining with Gabriel's as the archangel tugged at his coat.

"It's alright brother. We're here to free you," he said softly. Glancing down his brother's body, he found Gabriel wasn't restrained. Something else must have kept the archangel here, and judging from his brother's state, it seemed magic was at play. Hopefully whatever spell was affecting Gabriel would dissipate once he was removed from the motel.

"Where is she?" Gabriel asked again, raising his head slightly. "I felt her…what did you…where..." His head fell weakly back down onto the pillow, and Castiel shot a glance at the demon hovering behind him. Rolling his eyes, the demon approached, helping Castiel move the archangel into a sitting position. The demon frowned as he felt the Gabriel's forehead with the back of his hand.

"You feeling alright there darling?" he asked carefully. Castiel glanced at him again, but the demon was gazing at Gabriel with genuine concern. "Your little bro was pretty annoying about getting your lovely self back. How 'bout you help us get you up yeah?"

Gabriel swayed sickly, eyes still not focusing. He looked bewilderedly over at Castiel, who still held his hand as the two attempted to get him to stand.

"Castiel?" he asked, voice wavering.

The angel smiled slightly, shuffling closer to his brother. Out of sight, his wings curled forward, attempting to offer reassurance that his physical body could not. "Yes Gabriel. I am here. We need to get you out-"

With a groan, Gabriel slumped against him, face pressed into Castiel's neck. He trembled against him, and Castiel looked over Gabriel's head at Crowley helplessly, who merely gazed back with wide worried eyes.

Gabriel's fingers clutched at his coat, fingers bordering on painful as they dug into the skin beneath. "You have to… _leave_. He…he took her…He'll take you too."

Castiel struggled to get his brother to look at him again. "Took who Gabriel? What did Lucifer do?"

The archangel shook his head, mumbling to himself as he attempted to burrow closer to his younger brother. Crowley shook his head, the demon's eyes grave.

"Let's get out of here," he muttered, obviously unnerved. "The longer we stick around, the more demons that'll come running, and not even the mutt can eat that many."

Castiel tried to get Gabriel to stand, but the archangel merely leant against him heavily, limp and unresponsive. Straining, Castiel managed to get his brother's arm around his neck, and Crowley darted forward to support the other side. Held between them, they started shuffling towards the door, Gabriel still muttering and pressing his face to Castiel's shoulder and neck.

Castiel froze. The door he had kicked down, only mere moments ago, was back in place. Crowley backed up fearfully, eyes wide and panicked as he dragged the angels with him.

"He's here," he whispered.

There was an amused chuckle behind them. Slowly, both supernatural creatures turned around, Gabriel still supported between them.

Lucifer smiled at them both, one eyebrow cocked. The devil was dressed in a pair of tattered jeans and an old worn t-shirt. In his arms was he held a bundle of what appeared to be blankets. He shifted the bundle against his chest, still looking at the two shocked creatures in front of him.

"Hello, Castiel. You're all grown up."

Crowley was shaking, the demon trembling with fear as he gripped Gabriel's arm harder; fingers digging into the fabric of the angel's green coat, but he stayed where he was as Castiel carefully transferred Gabriel's full weight over to the demon. Gabriel muttered something to himself, moving his nuzzling from his brother to the shell shocked demon who took no notice of the archangel currently attempting to burrow into his neck.

Steeling himself, Castiel turned angry eyes to the smiling devil. "Lucifer," he bit out.

He hadn't seen him since that fateful civil war. The bright blazing grace that had given the Morningstar his name was absent. Instead a swirling sense of  _wrongness_ wrapped the angel in a dark cloak. If he looked hard enough, Castiel could almost make out the shape of looming leathery wings, but they were tucked out of sight quickly. Unnerved but refusing to show it, Castiel faced the devil fully, allowing his own wings to manifest and arch protectively over his head; shielding Gabriel from view. Lucifer's eyes slowly crawled over his wings, and Castiel fought the urge to hide them, his skin prickling with unease and feathers puffing further.

"I see your time in hell affected you much like it affected me," Lucifer remarked. "Such a shame. You always had such beautiful wings Castiel."

Castiel kept his eyes firmly on the devil, though he felt his wings twitch self-consciously. He knew what they looked like; scorched by the flames of hell they were no longer shiny and healthy like they had been. He had been ashamed of them at first, but eventually saw them for what they were; a symbol of his devotion to do what was  _right._  His scarred and imperfect wings had carried him from hell, and with them they brought something equally as broken and imperfect.

And he would  _never_ regret Dean Winchester.

"Enough," he growled. "You will tell me what you did to my brother."

Lucifer looked amused. "I think you mean  _our_  brother." At Castiel's pointed silence, he sighed. "Very well. If that is what you wish." With a careless shrug, the devil dropped the bundle he had been holding. It hit the floor with a sick meaty thud, and Castiel stared at it in revulsion as the devil kicked aside the blankets.

"Go ahead.  _Look._ "

The blankets had been wrapped around a body. It was small and grotesque, its grey skin scaly and peeling. Empty black cavities yawned where there should have been eyes; staring blindly out at the angel from a tiny shrunken face. It was a monster, and barely looked human, save for the perfectly formed tiny hands and feet.  _A child_. Two skeletal limbs jutted out from its back, and instinctively, Castiel knew what the creature was meant to be.

A fledgling. A young  _angel_.

But there were no feathers on the sad excuse for wings, only peeling oily skin that hung in tattered strips. The creature was misshapen, a twisted grotesque parody of what it should have been. Its tiny stiff fingers clutched the air as if reaching for him and Castiel felt a sudden deep sadness for a life doomed before it had even begun.

"What...what did you do?" his voice shook, and he forced himself to look up and away from the dead creature. Lucifer was still watching him, and shrugged nonchalantly.

"It would seem that Gabriel and I are not… _compatible,_ " the devil sighed, shoving his hands into his jean pockets. "The years I spent in hell were not kind. My grace, what's left of it that is, has… _changed_."

Crowley shifted the unresponsive angel in his arms. Gabriel murmured, still slumping heavily against him. The demon stayed behind Castiel, peering out from behind the canopy of black feathers that hid him mostly from view. "Corrupted you mean," he muttered. Realizing he had spoken out loud, he closed his mouth with an audible click, eyes wide.

Lucifer's eyes glanced sharply at the demon. "Hush, honey. The adults are talking."

Castiel's wings shuddered aggressively. "I do not care about your  _sufferings_ Lucifer," he said fiercely, struggling to avoid looking down at the accusing tiny face of the dead creature on the floor. "What did you do to Gabriel?"

Lucifer clicked his tongue, rocking on the balls of his feet. "See, I figured that because good ol' Gabe was an archangel, much like I used to be, it would be enough to overcome my…oddities. Unfortunately, that doesn't appear to be the case."

Lucifer glanced down at the pitiful creature at his feet. "I… _borrowed_  some of his grace to join with mine."

Castiel could feel his hands shaking, and he forced them to his sides, struggling to calm himself. "You mean you took it," he said bitterly. "An angel's grace is not yours to  _take_. It is a violation."

Lucifer looked back up, eyes serious. "We all have sacrifices to make, Castiel. I'm afraid that's what war is all about."

He could have laughed. "This isn't a  _war,_ " Castiel growled. "What you're doing…what you've  _done…_  is genocide."

The devil laughed at that, shaking his head. "Oh Castiel. Little, darling Castiel. How I've missed you. You know, we're very much alike you and I."

Castiel stiffened, eyes flashing. The angel blade felt heavy against his palm, and he kept it out of sight. "We are  _nothing_  alike."

Lucifer moved forward, stepping over the pathetic creature on the ground without a second glance. As if it didn't exist. "They used to tease you didn't they Castiel?" the devil murmured. "Our brothers and sisters. They shunned you, like you were something to be  _feared_. I, of all angels, understand what that is like."

"You know  _nothing_  of me!" Castiel spat, uncomfortable that the devil's words were hitting too close to home. Old wounds were re-opening, stinging, and he struggled to cover them again. To show weakness in front of Lucifer would not help him. "And you are not an angel any longer."

"Perhaps," Lucifer conceded, moving over to the bedside table. A dog-eared Bible was placed on top the mahogany wood, its cover frayed and torn. The devil picked it up, shaking it slightly as he turned back around. "But I was at one point. And like the good little archangel I was, I obeyed my father. When he asked me to give myself to make a fledgling, I did." Lucifer shook his head, tossing the Bible into the corner of the room. "I admit, your creation was not the most conventional. One of the most painful things I had to endure, forming you."

The scathing words on his tongue crumbled to ash, and Castiel stared at his brother, uncomprehending. The room was suddenly too quiet, both angels ignoring Crowley's muttered "Oh  _shit._ "

"Wh…what are you talking about?" he managed, throat suddenly too tight.

Lucifer sighed, shaking his head sadly. "I forget that they stopped telling the younger seraphs about us. About how we  _made_  you."

Castiel's mind was in turmoil.  _No._  Of course not. Lucifer was the Prince of Lies after all, it was just a trick, Lucifer was his brother, not…not….

But all he could hear was an older brother, looking down at him disdainfully.  _Of course you'd ask me that Castiel. You're just like_ _ **him**_ _. Why can't you just be like everyone else?_  Raphael, glaring at him with crossed arms.  _I half expected you to join the rebellion Castiel. With_ _ **him**_ _._ His siblings who never wanted to play with him. Castiel the odd one, the questioning one, one of only two angels in heaven with black wings, the other…

_Lucifer._

His wings shook with distress, and he glanced back over towards a stunned looking Crowley and the slumped form in his arms. "Gabriel, he-"

"You're MINE!" Lucifer erupted, face twisted in a snarl. "Do you hear me? You're  _mine._ Not his. You were  _never_  his." Slowly, he took a deep breath, smoothing his hands down his jeans, his expression smoothing back into an emotionless mask. "Gabriel did his part. But now the time has come for the prodigal son to return to his father."

Castiel couldn't speak. His mind had stuttered to an abrupt halt and a spreading numbness filled his body as he watched Lucifer come towards him. The devil was going to steal him as easily as he had Gabriel, and Castiel couldn't stop him. Was there even any point in trying to deny Satan himself?

It was Crowley, a terrified and quaking crossroad demon, who found his voice, and stopped the devil in his tracks.

"Father my  _arse_!" he challenged, voice tremulous but loud. "Like you'd be any better a dad to that idiot of an angel then you were to us demons. Hell is a  _shithole_  thanks to your parenting skills."

Lucifer stopped, looking over as if noticing the demon for the first time. "Demons? They're not my  _children_. More like a….hobby," he laughed loudly, slapping a hand against one thigh. "It was so ridiculously  _simple_  to make one. Just twist hard enough and the human soul shatters into a million jagged pieces." Those cold eyes found Castiel's again. "Much like Dean Winchester did."

That snapped the angel out of his stupor. Pure and blind rage threatened to engulf him, and Castiel saw red. "You dare touch the Winchesters and I will kill you," he said dangerously, wings snapping wide once again.

Lucifer snapped his fingers, smiling widely. "Now that's what I'm talking about! So  _passionate_. Not like those other Raphael clones. Oh Castiel," he shook his head, still smiling, "You, I tore a part of myself out for. Kid, you're  _me_."

Castiel felt a hot weight in his stomach. Something sick and angry pulsed inside him, and with a jolt he realized it was his grace; roiling and swirling with unease. Lucifer watched him with a triumphant gleam in his eyes.

"See, I can't do this on my own," he gestured towards the pathetic bundle on ground. "My grace isn't what it used to be. I can't give them enough grace to live. But if I had  _yours_  as well-" He winked. "We could be unstoppable. You and me. Think about it Castiel. You could be my right hand. They'd  _never_  look down on you again. Heck, I'll even let you keep your little human pets."

Revulsion nearly choked him. Summoning up all the grace he could muster, he stiffened, wings flaring and threatening. " _Never_."

Lucifer sighed with disappointment. "I thought you might say that. That's alright Castiel, you'll come around, I'm not worried. Until then, things will simply be a tad more…difficult."

The devil advanced again, and Crowley moaned with fear, backing up into the wall, still holding Gabriel. Castiel gritted his teeth, bracing himself for a fight he couldn't possibly win.

The motel room exploded with shards of glass, forcing the three to their knees. Through the small window overlooking a dilapidated parking lot, crashed a vengeful Nordic God.

Fenrir slammed into the devil, powerful jaws snapping and blood splattering. The wolf was a terrifying sight, eyes blazing gold and wild, his muzzle and head slick with blood and viscera. He bore down on Lucifer, slamming the devil to the carpet hard enough to stun him momentarily; his long fangs digging bloody trenches in the soft pliant flesh of Lucifer's vessel.

The devil screeched at him, shoving the wolf away from him as he scrambled into a crouch. Fenrir dug his back paws into the carpet, powerful shoulders ready for another lunge, and head low to the ground as he snarled.

"Fenrir!" Castiel shouted desperately. The angel had hurried back to Crowley's side, grabbing Gabriel's arm to balance him once again between them. The wolf raised his head, eyes clearing of bloodlust long enough to recognize him.

" _Go!" t_ he great wolf snarled. " _Take my father and leave this place."_ He turned his terrifying gaze back to the devil, front paws scuffing the carpet eagerly as his jaws slavered. His ears were flattened against his skull, his pupils mere tiny slits set in blazing yellow sapphire. " _Fenrir has much to…._ _ **discuss**_ _with the Morningstar."_

Castiel and Crowley struggled over to the door, tugging it open. Lucifer glared hatefully at the growling wolf in front of him, one hand pressed firmly against a bleeding shoulder.

" _Castiel_!" he bellowed, and the angel halted momentarily, even though Crowley was tugging him forward. "I will find you boy! Do  _not_  run from me."

Castiel looked back coldly. "When the time comes you will not have to. I will find  _you_ , and I will  **stop you**."

Fenrir barked and lunged forward, and Castiel turned away, struggling down the corridor with Crowley. The sounds of a titanic battle shook the whole motel, and the two could hear the answering shouts of demons regrouping outside; coming to their leader's aide.

Crowley gritted his teeth, his smaller stature struggling to keep up with Castiel. "Man for such a little guy he sure is  _heavy_."

There was an amused snort in front of them, and Castiel drew up short, cursing in Enochian under his breath. A demon stood in front of them, hip cocked as she watched them, hellhounds at her back. The beasts were baying with excitement, maws slobbering.

"Well you'd know about that wouldn't you Crowley? Getting a bit chubby yourself," she tsked. "Must be all that  _betrayal_ you've been consuming."

Crowley chuckled. "Oh Meg. Did you come up with that yourself? Darling you need to work on your insults."

Meg's eyes narrowed and the hounds pawed at the ground behind her. "I'd watch myself if I were you Crowley. It's bad enough you're helping the Winchesters but  _angels_?" she shook her head smirking. "Tell me, what's it like finally being allowed up off your knees? Your jaw must hurt from all that angel servicing."

Crowley shrugged one shoulder, jostling Gabriel who murmured unhappily. "Depends what angel you're servicing, and me well…" Crowley winked saucily over at Castiel. "I decided to go with the hot ones. Besides, I'd rather be on my knees, than on my back with my legs in the air having to think of England." He looked over knowingly at the demon. "And you'd know a lot about  _that_."

Meg looked murderous. Castiel sighed wearily. "Was it really necessary to infuriate the demon further when she is clearly going to kill us anyways?"

Crowley looked offended. "Of course!"

"You know Crowley, there comes a day when every old dog has to be put down, and every crossroad demon's deal runs out," Meg said dangerously. "Your time is up. Any witty last words?"

Crowley hitched Gabriel higher onto his shoulder. "You know what? Yes actually."

The hellhounds knew they would soon be allowed free, and bayed louder, paws scuffing the ground and nails leaving deep gouges in the carpet. Meg sighed, inspecting her nails boredly.

"And what would that be?" she asked.

Crowley grinned. "This old dog still has a few tricks left in him.  _Bitch._ "

With a grunt, Crowley threw his hand up, a fireball erupting from his palm. Meg shrieked as it hit her square in the chest, knocking her back into the swarming mass of hellhound. The creatures whined and howled as the fire engulfed them too.

Crowley dragged a surprised Castiel along as he turned and started running down the corridor. "Get us the hell out of here angel!" he bellowed over the din.

"Don't you think I would have if I could by now!" Castiel snapped back, shoulders aching. "I am still too weak to fly us all out of here. Why don't  _you_?"

"Oh maybe because  **I can't fly** you asshole!" Crowley shouted at him, both pounding down the narrow corridor. "We demons just…scuttle.  _Quickly._  We can't take passengers!"

There was an enraged yell behind them, and Castiel risked a glance back to see Meg giving chase, her hair smoldering.

"You little shits!" she screeched. "I'm going to rip out your fucking _eyes_  and make you eat them!"

Crowley tugged them down yet another side corridor, heading towards some glass double doors. "She doesn't sound too happy does she?"

Slamming through the doors, they found themselves in the lobby. And also surrounded by demons.

"Oh fuck me," Crowley said irritably as Castiel backed them up into the desk, eyes wide as he tried to estimate their odds of being able to fight their way through. It didn't look good.

"Maybe later big boy."

The two turned away from the advancing demons to gawp at the creature that had suddenly materialized behind them.

There was an angel leaning against the wall behind the desk. For a panicked moment Castiel thought it was one of Raphael's lackeys, but this angel wore no suit or solemn expression. He leant against the wall with one hip, arms crossed. His features weren't familiar to Castiel, but the wings that gracefully arched above his heard  _were_. Speckled beige wings, with lines of liquid copper racing along each feather. A memory flitted in his frazzled mind, and Castiel could practically smell the pine forest, moist dirt squishing between his toes.

 

* * *

 

_Many angelic years ago_

Castiel wasn't a very good flyer. He'd flap his wings so very hard, but they weren't fully formed yet, the muscles still weak and unformed. He tried his best, but his siblings were all so much older than him and stronger, and frequently the little seraph was left behind. He stood alone in the shade of a large tree, long grasses tickling the back of his knees as he stared forlornly up at the sky. He could hear the happy peals of laughter that could only come from Rachel, and he sighed heavily, hanging his head.

He kicked a pebble sullenly, startling a trundling beetle making its way through the dense grass. There was a rustle of wings, and Castiel turned to see a brother land in the grass beside him, long elegant wings folding primly against his back as Castiel eyed them jealously. The little seraph looked down sullenly.

"What do you want?" he huffed.

His older brother smiled, the tips of his wings twitching with amusement as he looked down at the dejected seraph. The sun caught the fine copper lines that seemed to embroider each feather, and Castiel watched as they winked at him.

"Castiel, you little goof," his brother smiled. "What you doing all the way down here? Party's upstairs."

Castiel toed the dirt, still watching the beetle. "I got left behind," he said quietly. "Again."

He sighed, turning away from his brother and beginning to walk further into the forest, expecting his brother to simply shrug and leave him too. His siblings often left him on his own, judging the little seraph too young or too… _odd_ to bother with. Gabriel tried to keep him occupied, but Castiel yearned to be able to fly with the other fledglings, to play with them and be… _normal._

Castiel was surprised to hear his brother fall in step behind him, and the two spent a few quiet minutes enjoying the serenity of the forest, walking side by side. Castiel was grateful his brother didn't comment on the amount of times the little angel rubbed his eyes or sniffed.

It was a larger hand taking his that made Castiel look up. His brother smiled kindly down at him, wings curling forward to touch Castiel's briefly.

"You know what? Uriel's party sounded  _lame_. How about we go rustle up some chaos huh?" he winked mischievously, wings spreading. "Just you and me. I know where Raphael's moved her nest to."

Castiel tried to look unaffected by the offer, but his wings betrayed him; they twitched and fluttered in excitement, and his brother's smile grew even wider.

"I would like that," Castiel managed shyly.

His brother tugged his hand, turning and breaking into a quick jog. "Well come on then!" he whooped. "There's no time to lose, little brother!"

The two raced through the trees, bare feet digging into the loose soil and kicking up clods of dirt and grass. Their wings stayed folded against their backs, and for once, Castiel could keep up.

 

* * *

 

Castiel remembered that afternoon. The feeling of an older brother's hand holding his as they ran and laughed through a long extinct forest, was one he had cherished for many years. A memory he had kept safely tucked within the chambers of his heart, after he had heard that the broad grins and carefree laughter of his brother had been extinguished on a bloody battlefield many years ago.

Or so he had been led to believe.

Castiel stared openly, hardly believing it was really him. " _Balthazar_."

His brother smiled, pushing away from the wall. "The one and only, little bro. In a spot of bother are we?"

Crowley glanced back at their advancing enemy. "Lovely, it's a pleasure and all that but we're kind of busy trying not to  _die_  here. Can we save the family reunion for later?"

Balthazar grinned, reaching over the desk to grab ahold of Castiel's shoulder. He glanced over at Crowley for a moment, before shrugging and grabbing the demon's shoulder in his other hand. "Welcome aboard Balthazar airlines, this is your captain speaking," he chirped cheerfully. "Please stow away you tray tables and secure your archangels. We may experience slight demonic turbulence, so fasten your seatbelts kids!"


	11. Chapter 11

The late day sun was filtering through the moth bitten curtains, and Sam sighed into the silence of the study, angling his face towards it. He was slumped over the desk, chin on his folded arms as he watched Dean pace. His brother has been following the same line over and over again for the past half hour, mumbling to himself now and then, whilst glancing at the clock.

Finally having enough, Bobby slammed a book closed; the sound jolting Sam from his slumped position, but Dean didn't even flinch.

"Oh for the love…seriously Dean, you're givin' me a headache. Sit DOWN!" Bobby said exasperatedly.

Dean shook his head slightly, running a hand through his short hair as he continued pacing. "What's taking them so long Bobby? It's been hours. They should have been back by now."

Sam yawned, stretching his arms high above his head and cracking his aching back. "Dean, you have no idea how far away the motel is. I'm sure they're ok, stop worrying."

His brother shot him a dark glare, but didn't stop his pacing. "What if Lucifer was there huh? Cas is still weak and Crowley would probably just leave him." He finally stopped then, face paling slightly. "What if Cas is hurt? Maybe he's been captured too and-"

"And maybe I'm a monkey's Uncle, and the sky is purple," Bobby interrupted, grumpily. "Will you just quit your worryin'? I'm sure your _boyfriend_  is fine."

Sam stifled a laugh at that, Dean turning to face them both fully, face angry. "I can't. Not after Ellen and Jo."

Bobby looked down at that, and Sam sighed, slumping back down to the desk.  _So much for happy thoughts. Thanks Dean._

Realizing what he said, Dean looked away, jaw clenching. "I mean it's just…" he shrugged helplessly. "I wanna help you know?"

Bobby nodded, opening his book again. "I know, son. That's why we're tryin' to keep busy so we don't think about it. Why don't you git your ass over here and help us huh?"

Before Dean could reply, the living room exploded in a cacophony of shouts and thuds. Sam had never seen his brother move so fast; one minute Dean was over by the wall, the next he was in the living room, staring wide eyed down at the flailing mass of bodies on the floor. Sam's chair scraped along the carpet as he stood hurriedly, Bobby close behind.

Crowley was at the bottom of the impromptu dog pile, the demon sticking out an arm from the mass of bodies to wave it around weakly. The rest of the demon was obscured by a winded looking Castiel, his arms a tight band around an unconscious looking Gabriel.

"Little help here?" Crowley wheezed. "I'm being angelwhiched to death!"

Castiel snapped out of it, hurriedly trying to free himself from the demon, and Crowley grunted as one of the angel's shoes caught him in the stomach. It was then Sam noticed an unfamiliar face, as a man managed to make it to his feet first, dusting himself off.

"Hm. Perhaps I should work on my landings," he muttered.

Ah. Another angel then. He was tall with sandy blonde hair, dressed in expensive looking clothes that seemed more suited for an afternoon at a local art gallery. Bobby glared at him, already inching back towards the study where he always kept a loaded shotgun.

"What the hell is this? An aviary?" the old hunter demanded. "Cas, you were only supposed to bring ONE angel back."

Castiel had managed to free himself from Crowley, still holding onto Gabriel. Dean was already crouching in front of him, one hand touching his arm worriedly, pointedly ignoring the newcomer.

"Cas?" Dean asked. "You okay, man?"

Crowley had extracted himself, and sat on the floor, legs splayed wide as he cast a glance over at the angel. The demon looked just as shell shocked as the angel did. "I shouldn't think so," he muttered, getting his legs under him and struggling to his feet. "That was a _clusterfuck_  of a situation. Lucifer decided to drop in."

Sam's stomach dropped, and Dean jerked his attention towards the demon. "What?"

"Oh no," the strange angel waved his hands in front of him, clicking his tongue. "We're not getting into that just yet. First order of business; take care of the unconscious archangel."

That got Sam's attention. Frowning, he moved to his brother's side, looking worriedly down at the slumped form of Gabriel, still half cradled in Castiel's arms. "What happened to him?" he asked, stomach churning.  _What did it take to make an archangel unconscious?_

Bobby had decided his shotgun wasn't needed just yet, but stayed by the doorway, arms crossed and expression sullen as he looked over at the unfamiliar angel. "More importantly, just who the hell are you?"

The angel smiled winningly, tugging his suit coat importantly. "Name's Balthazar. Now that we're got that out of the way, can we  _please_ get back to-"

" _Balthazar,_ " Castiel's voice was low and icy and all activity in the cramped living room stopped. Slowly, the angel managed to get to his knees, and Sam darted forward, hands sliding under Gabriel's armpits. The archangel's head lolled limply as Sam managed to get the archangel into a sitting position against the couch. Castiel nodded to him tersely as he stood, turning to face Balthazar fully.

At a loss as to what to do, Sam patted Gabriel's cheek lightly. "Um…hey. Gabe?" There was no response, Gabriel merely mumbling something, and Sam glanced helplessly over at his brother. Dean wasn't paying any attention however, wide worried eyes trained on the angel standing over him. An undercurrent of power crackled in the air, Castiel's shoulders rigid as he stared the other angel down, and Sam felt the hairs on his arms stand up.

Balthazar looked nervous, backing up a step and hands spread pleadingly. "Now Cassie, this really isn't the best time-"

"Now is the  _perfect time._ " Oh man. Cas was pissed.

Crowley sighed heavily from his spot on the floor. "Wonderful."

He shuffled closer to Sam, pushing the Winchester away lightly to check on Gabriel. The archangel muttered as the demon checked him over quickly, head slumping forward as Crowley shifted his arms. Satisfied the archangel was none the worse for wear, despite the rough landing, the demon settled down beside him, eyes curious as he wriggled into a comfortable position. He arched an eyebrow at the staring Sam, making a shooing motion with his hand.

"Do you mind, Moose? You're in the way of prime time entertainment."

Dumbly, Sam shuffled to sit on Gabriel's other side. Dean remained where he was in the middle of the floor, crouching low to the ground and staring up at Castiel with wide worried eyes, ignoring Bobby's harsh whispers to come away.

Apparently Dean was going to stay with his front row seats to the angel fight.

Balthazar sighed irritably, arms crossing defensively. "Don't look at me like that. I just saved your  _life_ little brother, the least you could do is thank me."

Castiel looked incredulous, eyes flashing and there was a quiet, "Oh no he  _didn't-_ ", from Crowley.

"Thank you?  _Thank,_ you?" Sam wouldn't be surprised if the angel started swearing. Dean had obviously been a bad influence. "You were dead! All of heaven mourned you!"

Balthazar rolled his eyes. "Ah now, see that was just a misunderst-"

" _NO!_ " Castiel erupted, startling his brother to silence, and forcing a cackle out of Crowley. The angel's hands were balled fists at his sides, and Sam could see them shaking. "You were  _gone_ , and now you're here and you want  _thanks_?"

Sam had never seen Cas look so thunderous.

"All those years and I-" the angel closed his eyes briefly, struggling to calm himself. His jaw was clenched, whole body tense and unyielding when he looked back at his brother. "You were gone. Where were you? And do not lie to me Balthazar. I have no patience for any games right now."

Balthazar had uncrossed his arms, and they lay limp at his sides as he shifted his weight from foot to foot nervously. "It's a rather boring story really, not that interesting."

Castiel crossed his arms, and that crackle of power ripped through the room again. "Try me. What. Happened," he growled.

Balthazar dropped his eyes, shoulders sagging as he gave up the pretense of nonchalance. "It was the war ok? That damn, stupid, _awful_  war," he said quietly. "Brother killing brother, sister killing sister. We were brothers in arms back then weren't we Castiel?"

Something unreadable flashed across Castiel's face, and Balthazar shook his head, eyes still on the floor. "I kept telling myself it wouldn't be forever. The fighting would end eventually; all I had to do was survive a little longer, just a little longer. All I needed was a little more  _faith_ …" He raised his eyes to Castiel's, making an expressive motion with his hands. "It was Amitiel that did it. The final straw. We were born around the same time you know. We grew up together. She had this way of  _laughing_ …." the angel swallowed hard, eyes darting away again. "I had to plunge a sword through her heart and watch as she died. She was my sister and I  _killed her_."

He chuckled humorlessly. "She was the angel of truth. Isn't that funny?  _Truth_. Well I saw the truth that day. The truth was that heaven was well and truly  _fucked_ , forever, and I couldn't do it. Not anymore."

Gabriel had slumped down; nuzzling his face into Sam's shoulder, and Sam dragged his attention away from the two glaring angels to look incredulously at the bowed head of the archangel. Crowley glanced over briefly.

"He does that a lot. Just go with it," he whispered.

Balthazar rubbed the back of his neck meekly, and Sam was drawn back to the fight in front of him.

"So I defected to humanity," the angel continued. "And I was quite  _happy_ actually, until quite recently."

Dean finally stood, standing close to Castiel, lending him silent moral support. "Recently?"

Balthazar looked over at him, one eyebrow arching. " _Duh._  Lucifer."

Castiel shook his head impatiently. The anger leeching from the angel seemed calmer now, more muted. "What made you return?"

Balthazar threw a glance over at the three by the couch. Gabriel was muttering again, snuffling against Sam's shoulder as he tried to get closer, and Sam tried to subtly shift away; from both archangel and the eyes on him.

"Fenrir," the angel finally said, looking back over at Castiel. "He sought me out after you and Gabriel paid Asgard your little visit. Let me tell you,  _that_ was a surprise, seeing that monster in my living room."

Dean hadn't budged from Cas's side. "What? How did he know  _you_?"

Balthazar sighed irritably. "Do I have to explain everything to your hairless ape friends, Cassie?"

Castiel merely nodded tersely, and Balthazar gave in, turning back to Dean and crossing his arms. "I've been hiding out in the deity circuit too. I just stuck to the more…cultured ones. I think once Gabriel revealed he wasn't really a Norse God, Fenrir put two and two together, or more likely, put  _smells_  together and sussed out who wasn't a real God either. They all know each other you know. Sharp as a tack that one, wouldn't wanna be his enemy."

Balthazar shrugged, turning away to look down at Gabriel. "And I wasn't exactly out of the loop; I've been keeping an eye on things in heaven. On you little bro. I didn't want to get involved but…Fenrir gave me a pretty good incentive."

Sam looked up at that. "Like what?"

Balthazar looked down snobbishly at him, sniffing lightly. "If you  _must_  know, he threatened to eat me if I didn't."

Crowley sighed from his spot on the floor, glancing over at a quiet Castiel. "Now that the entertainment value is lost, can we get back to the issue of the hour?"

Castiel had stiffened, and Sam watched curiously as Dean reached out, touching his arm lightly. Balthazar glared down at the demon.

"And what would that be?" he drawled.

Crowley grinned up at him, slapping his hands down on his spread legs. "Castiel here is the devil's incest love baby."

The living room dropped several degrees in temperature. Dean had frozen, hand still on Cas's sleeve, as he gaped at the demon. Balthazar turned back to his brother, casually stretching out his foot to deliver a quick kick to Crowley's legs, who yelped.

Castiel looked wrecked, and Sam realized the angel was shaking. Balthazar took an abortive step forward, but Castiel stopped him with a hand, shaking his head quickly.

"Don't," he said thickly. "Just tell me…if it's true."

Balthazar shrugged helplessly. "I wouldn't call you an incest love baby, but technically, you  _are_  Lucifer's. Sort of."

Dean finally found his voice, and dropped his hand from the Castiel's sleeve, taking a threatening step towards the other angel. " _Sort of?_ "

Balthazar didn't look intimidated. "Hey, there's a speck of archangel in most of us. It's not a big deal," the angel frowned then, shoving his hands into his expensive-looking jean pockets. "At least it wasn't a big deal until Lucifer _decided_  it was."

"What the hell are you yammerin' about?" Bobby asked exasperatedly. "Can someone tell me what the hell is going on?" He pointed a finger angrily as Crowley started to speak. " _NOT_ you."

Crowley settled back down with a huff, crossing his arms sulkily. It was Castiel who spoke, eyes trained on Gabriel's slumped form.

"Lucifer attempted to make a fledgling with Gabriel without his consent," he said dully. "It failed. He believes it is because his grace is too changed-"

"-corrupted-" Crowley muttered.

"-to be able to produce a living fledgling with another angel. He believes the solution to be…me," Castiel finished.

Dean turned to him, completely lost. "Fledgling? I heard Gabriel say that once. What does that mean?"

Balthazar massaged his temples wearily. "Ok, everyone shut up. Mr. Balthazar is going to give you a history lesson, and I want you all to listen because I have the  _worst_ headache right now and all I want to do is get a nice tall glass of brandy and get properly  _sloshed_  but I'm stuck here instead."

He clapped his hands together, ignoring the dark glower his brother threw at him. "Everyone listening? Good. Once upon a time, there was a Father and his children. Angels. Only some angels mind you, Gabriel included." He nodded towards the couch. "Then, Father decided that  _some_ angels weren't enough. He wanted  _more_  angels. So he told the angels that every now and then, they could help make a sibling by donating a piece of their grace."

Balthazar looked around the room. "Now children, giving a piece of your grace  _hurts_ , so many angels didn't want to do it. And Father, being a huge pushover, didn't want to make them. So, it was left up to the archangels to help produce siblings when Father asked."

Crowley held up his hand. Sam slapped it down before Balthazar noticed and could smite the demon.

"So, one archangel would donate a piece of themselves, and a different angel would donate theirs, and it would form a perfect little baby angel; a fledgling. But that wasn't enough you see, it was only a body. Father had to breathe life into it to fully complete the whole process," Balthazar paused. "Do you see where I'm going with this, children?"

Bobby frowned. "Wait, so there are  _baby angels_ runnin' around? And Lucifer wants them?"

Balthazar shook his head impatiently. "One archangel, the most brightest and most beautiful, didn't  _want_ to donate a piece of himself. Father couldn't make him, but subtly…. _encouraged_  him to. Eventually, the archangel did, but he didn't do it very often. Only three times." Balthazar held up his fingers to demonstrate his point, ticking them off as he talked. "The first one, Icarus, was killed. The second was called Azazel, and he was an  _asshole_ , children. A real fucking  _asshole_."

Both Winchesters stiffened at that, shooting shocked glances at each other. Balthazar ignored them, holding up his last finger, looking pointedly at Castiel.

"But then there was the last. And this little angel wasn't just the archangel's last one; he was also the last one to be born  _ever._ " Balthazar dropped his hand, eyes softening. "It was you, baby brother. After you were born, God was never heard from again. No more fledglings were ever made. Without God, no fledglings  _can_ be made."

Castiel looked away, eyes closed. "But Lucifer is trying," he said quietly, a slight tremor in his voice. "I saw what he had done. It was…it was  _real_."

Dean took a step towards the angel, but Cas stepped away from him, rubbing his arms numbly. Bobby shook his head, sliding his cap off to rub his forehead tiredly.

"Well that don't make no lick of sense," he murmured. "What the hell does Satan want with a bunch of babies? And why hasn't God been heard from huh?"

Balthazar threw his arms up irritably. "Does it  _look_  like I'm an encyclopedia on Lucifer? I don't know. Maybe he's feeling maternal. No-one knows why God upped and left. Probably something to do with Lucifer but we'll never really know."

Unable to contain himself any longer, Crowley waved his arm again, gaining the angel's attention. "Let's not forget the whole creepy, Lucifer-wants-Castiel-to-bear-his-incestuous-devil-spawn thing. 'Cause God or no, the devil is  _definitely_  set on making them."

Castiel shuddered, continuing rubbing his arms as he stared at the ground. "All those years," he murmured numbly. "They hated me because I was  _his_."

"Ok first of all, everyone stop using the word incest. It's freaking me out." Balthazar turned to Castiel then, pointing angrily. "And  _no-one_  hated you. You were our baby brother, and we  _all_ loved you."

"Then tell me  _why,_ " the younger angel fired back fiercely. "Why I was an  _outcast_  in my own family. Why I was left behind, ridiculed and looked down upon. Everyone left me Balthazar,  _everyone."_

Balthazar looked at him seriously. "Because you were the best of us, Castiel. You were the favorite."

The living room lapsed back into silence, Castiel looking away with flinty eyes, jaw clenched. Sam stayed where he was, unsure of what the hell he should do, or even say.

And he thought  _their_ family was messed up.

Dean seemed to agree with him, standing awkwardly in the middle of the living room, still looking at the angel. Balthazar's hands were back in his pockets as he frowned contemplatively at the floor.

"Of all the young seraphs, you got your own personal, archangel guardian. For some of us, it was jealousy. Uriel couldn't understand why you were the one to get such special treatment. And you were so  _different_ from the others."

"Well now I know why," Castiel muttered, bitterly. "Because I'm the devil's  _son_."

Balthazar shook his head. "No. You were different because you were  _you_. Lucifer had nothing to do with it."

A loud groan interrupted them, and Sam jerked as the angel at his side rolled more heavily into him. With a muttered curse, Castiel was crouching in front of him, eyes worried.

"Gabriel?" the angel murmured.

Balthazar watched them both as Castiel cupped the archangels cheek, shaking his head slightly. "We need to get him somewhere warm and comfortable. He needs rest and quiet to heal the hole in his grace."

Crowley was already grabbing a hold of one arm, and Sam followed suit, both hauling the archangel to his feet.

"So no more yelling I take it," the demon said wryly, looking pointedly at a guilty Castiel. The angel watched them as they started upstairs towards the guestroom, shrugging off Dean's attempt to talk to him and disappearing in a flap of wings.

Dean looked forlornly at the empty space his friend had stood, and Balthazar sighed. "Don't worry. He can't go far; he just needs some….time."

 

* * *

 

Castiel sought solace on the old junker he had been in only that very morning. Secretly a part of him hoped Dean would seek him out, but a larger part of him was glad when the hunter didn't. He was too… _confused_  to appreciate any words of wisdom the human would have for him. Ghosts of the past haunted his mind, things that made more sense now, and he shuddered beneath them, burying his face in his hands as he tried to ignore them. Instead the face of the broken and pathetic creature dumped on the floor of a dilapidated motel room glared at him, dark eyeless sockets looking at him accusingly.  _Look what you've done,_ it said,  _it was meant to be_ _ **you**_ _. It was_ _ **always**_ _you. Look what you made him do._

He wasn't even aware he wasn't alone until he raised his head, surprised at the wetness that trailed down his face. Fenrir sat only an arm's length away; fur stiffening with gore and blood. Castiel blinked, wiping his face hurriedly.

"Fe…Fenrir," he managed. "Are you alright?"

The great wolf shifted on its haunches, tail thumping against the ground. " _I have been better Uncle. But yes, I am alright. Lucifer retreated shortly after you left. I slipped away relatively easily."_ He rose to move slightly closer, large head leaning forward to rest on the hood of the car, turning his muzzle to gently nudge against Castiel's dangling leg. " _You are sad."_

Castiel breathed out shakily, tentatively resting his fingers in the thick fur presented to him, picking the dried blood free. "I…I am confused."

Fenrir looked up at him, tail thumping slowly against the ground as Castiel ran his fingers along the wolf's skull and neck. " _This I understand. Family is often unfathomable. I do not understand it well myself._ "

The angel chuckled slightly, eyes still wet. "That we have in common,"he murmured quietly.

Fenrir turned his head, rough tongue sweeping along Castiel's knuckles. " _My Father is safe thanks to you, Uncle. I am grateful."_

Castiel shook his head at that, fingers stilling. "I did nothing," he said bitterly. "Lucifer would have taken me too if it weren't for a demon and a long-lost brother. I could not save Gabriel. I cannot…I don't even know what I am anymore."

Fenrir pulled away slightly to peer more intensely into his face. " _I know who you are, Castiel, Angel of the Lord."_ The wolf nuzzled close again, and Castiel allowed it, clasping his arms around its thick neck and ignoring the blood that rubbed off on his cheek. " _You are the son that I was created to replace, a beloved brother, and brave soldier. Lucifer holds no sway over you, unless you allow him."_  The wolf pulled away, and Castiel blinked hard, hands falling to his sides.

Fenrir smiled at him. " _Us wolves, we live in packs. Our pack is our family. You, Castiel, have a very strong pack. Perhaps it is not the most common, or what one would normally_ _ **define**_ _as a pack, but it is one. Each pack needs its Alpha, Castiel. And now, your pack needs_ _ **you**_ _."_

The wolf turned away, starting towards the house, tail swishing. " _I believe your mate would also languish, were you to remain out here indefinitely. He seems the moping type._ "

Castiel blinked as the wolf turned to smile at him, teeth white in the dying light.  _Mate?_  Oh. His face reddened slightly, but he found himself smiling as the wolf moved away, huffing to himself amusedly.

_Dean._

* * *

 

Dean Winchester crept down the dark stairs, trying to avoid the ones that squeaked. Years of camping out at Bobby's had taught him which areas were safe to tread, and he managed to make it down the stairs without a sound.

Gabriel had been put in the guest room. Dean had nearly had a heart attack peering in to check on him, to find two gold eyes glaring out at him, a loud protective growl warning him to keep his distance. Fenrir had returned, and kept vigil over the sleeping Gabriel, huge body lying half on, half off the old bed, Gabriel barely visible through the thick fur he curled into.

Downstairs, the living room was like a supernatural slumber party. Somehow, Sam had won the couch, and sprawled on it on his back, snoring loudly; a tattered blanket dangling precariously off his legs. Crowley was on the floor, clutching a pillow beneath his head in a death grip. The demon and Balthazar had bickered bitterly over it; the last free pillow in Bobby's whole house, and somehow the crafty crossroad demon had managed to win it.

Bobby hadn't quit complaining all evening. ("They can conjure goddamn fire, and travel through time, but conjuring some damn  _clothes_ is apparently impossible for these idjits?")

Crowley was now dressed in one of the old hunter's ratty old plaid shirts, over black boxers that had little grinning devils on it. It was w _ay_ more information than Dean had ever wanted to know about the demon thanks, and he averted his eyes hastily from the pale leg poking out from the blanket the demon slept under.

A little ways away, Balthazar was camped out on the study floor. It was still weird, watching angels sleep. Why this one did was beyond him, but Dean crept by anyways. Balthazar had been too tall for any of Bobby's old clothes, so Sam had been forced to donate an old t-shirt, which the angel had bitterly complained about, proclaiming he'd much rather sleep naked.

Bobby threatened to shoot him if he did.

So the angel sullenly acquiesced, pulling the tired but still bright red t-shirt over his head. It used to have cartoon characters on it, and the angel had grimaced at it, claiming he'd never felt so dirty. To which Crowley immediately started telling him all the times  _he'd_  felt that dirty, which turned into a who-can-tell-the-dirtiest-story competition, and Dean was never going to be able to look at a whisk, or a can of baked beans the same way  _ever again._

The steps down to the panic room were cold beneath his bare feet, and Dean shivered, suddenly wishing he had decided to wander down in more than just his t-shirt and boxers. Balthazar had been kind enough (more like forced to and didn't stop complaining the whole time) to clean up the rest of the carnage downstairs, and the panic room was pretty much back to normal. Crowley refused to go back down into it though, so instead Castiel had volunteered to sleep on the rickety metal bed.

Dean could make out the angel's dark hair, just poking out from beneath some old scratchy blankets, and he paused at the threshold, wondering if Cas would even want him here. They hadn't exactly had time to talk about...well last night. He didn't know if the angel still was interested in even  _talking_ to him for Christsakes, let alone….

Dean bit his lip worriedly. After a shitty day like today, maybe Cas didn't want any company. The angel had been outside for long enough. He should just go back upstairs. This had been a stupid idea.

As quietly as he could manage, Dean turned to tiptoe his way back out.

"Where do you think you are going?"

Dean jumped, freezing as the angel's sleep-roughed voice echoed around the room, and he slowly turned around, guiltily.

"Sorry Cas. I um…I'll just…leave you alone," he murmured.

In the darkness, he could see Cas raise his head. "You will do no such thing," the angel growled.

Dean could make out Cas throwing back the covers on the bed, the sound of material sliding across skin loud in the quiet room as the rusty springs creaked. "Close the door and come to bed."

Dean couldn't help the grin that nearly split his face in two. "You got it, bossy."


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sexy times! And discussions of past warnings.

The air was cold, and Castiel shivered at the chill on his bare skin as Dean shuffled closer in the dark, tugging his t-shirt over his head and depositing it somewhere on the floor. The mattress dipped and squeaked as the hunter sat down, and Castiel shifted further over on the narrow bed to give him room. The angel was lying on his side, curled into a loose fetal position, and Dean slid in behind him, pressing his chest along the angel's back as he pulled the blanket around them both.

Dean's skin was warm against his own, and Castiel smiled softly, feeling the steady thump of Dean's heart against his back as the human re-arranged himself, one arm resting lightly over the angel's waist.

At first when introduced to the concept of sleep and having to remove his clothes to do such a task, Castiel had felt vulnerable and weak. Now however he felt secure, enjoying the sensation of another body, warm against his.

"Hey," Dean's voice was quiet, unsure. "You okay?"

Castiel exhaled shakily, fingers tightening as he held the blanket close against his naked front. "No," he admitted quietly. "Everything is…confusing."

There was the tentative brush of lips against the nape of his neck, and Castiel felt an answering warmth begin deep in the pit of his belly.

"Yeah. I get that," Dean murmured. "If you…if you wanna talk…" Castiel smiled to himself as the hunter cleared his throat awkwardly. "Just…I'm here you know? Whatever…whatever you need Cas."

Castiel let go of the blanket, sliding his own hand down to where Dean's rested along his side. It seemed natural to thread his fingers in the spaces between Dean's, fingers interlocking and squeezing. He felt the hunter tense for a moment, before relaxing, his body slumping against Castiel's.

"Thank you, Dean."

The room lapsed back into silence. Dean's warm breath fanned against the back of his neck, and something stirred within Castiel again. He felt…empty. A certain numbness crouched low in his chest, ugly and heavy. Lucifer had put it there, a dark swirling pit of uncertainty and fear.

He hated it.

He remembered the hot perfect  _joy_  he had felt the previous night, in the backseat of an old car with the very human now lying beside him, and found himself longing for it again. His body remembered the feeling of Dean; the intimacy that they had shared and how he had fit inside him, filling the empty spaces within him that Castiel hadn't even known  _needed_ to be filled.

Ducking his head down slightly, the angel arched his back, pressing his backside against the hard line of Dean's hips behind him in silent invitation. There was a strangled hiss, and Dean's fingers clenching more tightly around his.

Castiel felt an odd sort of pride; the hunter was already hard.

"Woah, there," Dean growled in his ear. The warmth in his belly had kindled to a flame, and Castiel pressed back more insistently, the aching need in him growing.

"Do you not want me?" he murmured into the darkness, uncertain.

Dean's nose nudged against the back of his neck as he inhaled shakily, hand slipping from Castiel's to still the angel's restless hips.

"Course I do," the hunter's voice was gruff. "But, I mean…sex isn't the answer if you're feeling bad, Cas. It doesn't…it won't help in the long run."

Castiel blinked, turning his head slightly. He could see Dean's features in the darkness, the line of his nose and the smattering of freckles across his cheeks. The hunter was avoiding his gaze, eyes trained on the pale outline of Castiel's shoulder, just poking out of the blanket as he propped himself up on one elbow.

"Is that what you think I'm doing?" Castiel asked softly, reaching a hand up to touch Dean's cheek lightly; fingertips just brushing his cheekbone. "That I'm… _using_ you to make myself feel better?"

Dean shrugged, eyes still avoiding him. "I'm not complainin' if you are, Cas. I just…I need to know. I…uh…I.." He scratched the back of his neck nervously. "Don't want you making yourself more miserable afterwards 'cause I was all that was available."

Castiel couldn't help himself, he smiled.  _Dean Winchester, when will you realize how much you are truly worth? How much_ _ **I**_ _value you?_

His smile brought Dean's attention back to him, and Castiel could see the uncertainty in his eyes. Dean wanted him, and was willing to simply give him what he wanted, even if it meant that Dean himself would be hurt in the process.  _Selfless._  The angel lifted his head, lips slotting against Dean's easily, as he attempted to reassure the man with his mouth.

Dean looked confused, and a little wrecked, as the angel pulled away, smiling up at him.

"Dean. I want to… _have sex_  with you because it's  _you."_ Castiel reached up again, tracing the contours of the face he had so painstakingly put together, what felt like so long ago. "I have no interest in doing this with another. And I would hope that we will continue to share this together, long after we defeat Lucifer."

Dean was smiling. He looked younger when he did so, more carefree. It made Castiel's heart clench, and the angel wished reverently that he could make Dean smile that way all the time.

"Yeah?" he asked, almost shyly, and Castiel was well and truly lost. He had known, from the moment he gathered that trembling and broken soul from the pit, and pieced together the tattered and frayed shards of a shredded body back together, that he would love Dean Winchester. He had simply not known then, how  _much_. He physically ached with it, both body and grace.

"Yes," Castiel murmured, in that moment forever sealing his heart to only one man. "If you still desire me then."

Dean ducked his head to kiss him, smiling against his lips. "I think I can do that."

Whereas the previous night had been quick and a blaze of desire, this time was slower, a quieter flame that burned just as brightly.

Dean showed him just how and where to touch; teasing caresses that had them both gasping, ticklish fingers that forced chuckles from them both in between stolen kisses. It was discovering one another, and though Dean threatened to harm him if he ever said it out loud, Castiel knew what this was, and why humans cherished it so.

This was making love.

Dean pulled away, rising above him to shuck his underwear down his thighs and Castiel took the opportunity to roll onto his back, legs falling open in silent invitation. Dean paused for a moment, eyes glittering in the darkness before smiling, lowering himself back down to fit himself snugly within the cradle of Castiel's thighs, one hand moving to rub slow circles along the skin at his hip.

Castiel sighed, slipping his arms around Dean's shoulders as the hunter lowered his full weight onto him, hips grinding together. One hand threaded through the hunter's short hair, fingertips exploring the whorls of hair as the angel kissed him again. Castiel hooked his ankles over the back of Dean's thighs as the hunter ground down into him, his breath shuddering as he felt the hard press of Dean's erection against his own.

This. This made sense when everything else didn't.

This was  _home._

Dean was nipping at his throat, hands stroking down his sides and trembling thighs. "You know, this time maybe I can be the b-" Castiel cut him off with a hard open mouthed kiss, hand gripping his hair tightly. The hunter's eyes were glazed when he pulled away, and Castiel smiled at him, bucking his hips slightly.

"I appreciate the offer Dean, but I-" he groaned as Dean's hand slipped lower, fingers dancing along his length teasingly. "I…would very much like you inside me again. If you please."

Dean's laughter was strangled as Castiel clenched his thighs, pressing him even closer. "You got… _uh_ …such a way with words, Cas."

Dean's hand was warm as he slid it down the back of Castiel's spread thighs, fingers brushing against sensitive skin. The angel arched his back, biting his lip as he felt the first tentative press of a finger, pushing inside him. His body welcomed it, and Dean's breath stuttered as he pressed a kiss to the side of Castiel's jaw, forehead resting against his.

"You're so fucking… _ah God_."

Castiel merely smirked, pushing down his hips and causing the hunter to grunt again. "My name is Castiel actually."

Dean sighed, hips jerking as worked two more fingers inside the angel, stretching him open. "You need to… _ah_ ….stop hanging out with Crowley."

Before he could fire back a witty retort, Dean had removed his fingers and was pressing inside him, and Castiel forgot himself in the slick feel of complete  _rapture_. He closed his eyes, head thrown back against the stiff pillow beneath him, the column of his throat bared and vulnerable. A part of him reveled in the complete loss of power; the feeling of offering himself to another.

His body felt hot, heavy and full, hips bucking at the intrusion. The crushing numbness in his chest was lessening, his grace swirling back into life to rejoice at the feeling of pure  _Dean_ , until it was all he could think, all he could feel, as a sweet fire burned him inside and out as Dean thrust into him.

Groggily, Castiel felt hands beneath his lax thighs, lifting them high and coaxing him to lock his legs around the hips thrusting into him again. With a groan, Castiel complied, ankles locking together as he drew Dean in deeper, arms encircling the hunters' shoulders and pulling him even closer. They were chest to chest, Dean's face buried in his neck as he panted and groaned, Castiel so entwined around him that it was hard to separate where one began and the other ended. The air was close, the blanket tangled around them as the bed creaked with each movement. He felt sticky with sweat, a droplet of the salty liquid running down the side of his face, but he didn't care, pulling Dean's head up by his hair to kiss him fiercely again.

The hips driving into his body were stuttering now, and Castiel could feel the answering wave of pleasure in his own body reaching its crescendo.

"Cas I'm…" Dean gasped against his lips, eyes unfocused. "You gotta…"

Castiel smiled up at him, pressing kisses to the bridge of his nose, his cheeks and eyelids. "Yes, Dean," he murmured, breath hitching as Dean found that spot deep within him again. " _Yes._ "

He felt it the moment Dean came; a warmth deep inside him as the hunter swore and shuddered above him, hips driving into the angel one final time as he tensed. Castiel was not far behind, gasping out his release into the darkness as light danced in front of his eyes. His grace was a soaring song in his chest, unseen wings snapped wide and quivering as he rode out the waves of his orgasm.

Castiel clung to feeling, his body clenching down hard as the hunter attempted to withdraw, ankles crossed and preventing Dean from pulling away.

Dean looked dazed, hair in disarray from Castiel's tugging. "Cas, I'm not-"

"Stay," he murmured, using his strength to maneuver the human onto his side. "Like this."

Dean shook his head with a low chuckle, leaning forward to kiss him chastely. "Alright. Bossy."

They fell asleep like that, pressed close, still locked together underneath a scratchy blanket on a creaking ancient bed, beneath a painted devil trap in the middle of the apocalypse.

And something deep inside Castiel clicked into place.

 

* * *

 

Dean was still asleep when Castiel slipped from the bed, quietly gathering his clothes and getting dressed. It was early morning, the sky just lightening as he climbed the steps from the basement. Balthazar and Crowley were snoring, Sam nearly falling off the couch in his sleep as the angel slipped past them. The angel had felt the tell-tale brush of a familiar grace against his that had woken him, and as he opened the door onto the porch, he paused.

Gabriel sat on the porch steps, face turned towards the horizon where the sun was beginning to rise. Fenrir dozed at the bottom, head on his paws and eyes closed; Gabriel's feet resting on his back and toes dug into the wolf's thick fur. The archangel didn't move as Castiel shut the door behind him, the cool morning breeze tugging playfully at the angel's hair. His wings were spread, anticipating the sun.

"Morning kiddo," Gabriel murmured, eyes closed.

Castiel sank down onto the step beside him, shifting as a twinge of discomfort radiated up his spine. "Gabriel. How are you feeling?"

The archangel opened his eyes then, and Castiel was relieved to see his brother seemed to have his senses back. He still looked weary, dark circles beneath his eyes, but he was awake and  _aware._  "I've been better."

Castiel turned his head to study the horizon as well. "I'm sorry," he said quietly.

Gabriel shook his head, hands resting on his knees. "I knew he wasn't the same anymore but...I didn't realize how bad it was."

Castiel swallowed, glancing down at his own clasped hands. "If I had gotten there sooner-"

" _Don't_ ," Gabriel said sharply, finally looking at his younger brother. "If it hadn't been me, it would have been you. Small mercies and all that."

"That's why you didn't want me going with them." Castiel watched as an inquisitive bee investigated Fenrir's ear. The wolf growled in his sleep, ear flicking agitatedly and sending the insect buzzing disgruntledly away. "You knew Lucifer would attempt to capture me."

"I didn't know for sure," Gabriel murmured. "I just…wanted to keep you safe."

"And endangered yourself in the process!" Castiel growled. "What Lucifer did…I  _saw,_  Gabriel. I saw the…the fledgling."

His brother gazed into distance, eyes far away. "I could feel him. What was left of his grace I mean, pressing against mine, demanding to be let in. I wasn't going to, I kept thinking, you can't be  _serious_. Not this, no way. It was sick,  _wrong_. But then…" He sucked in a shuddering breath. "Then I remembered how tiny you had been. How fragile. You were a bunch of sticky fingers and soft downy feathers, that were  _never_  straight. You'd ask for stories, and pull my feathers and fall asleep on my chest and snore. You'd drool _everywhere."_  Gabriel smiled for a moment, before a shadow fell back over his face. "And in that moment, with Lucifer knocking to be let in, I  _wanted_. I wanted that again, so badly. To feel the heartbeat of a fledgling against mine again. So I...I let him in. I…I just  _let him_."

Castiel paused, wings twitching in sympathy. "It's not your fault, Gabriel."

Gabriel chuckled, hanging his head. "See that's why you were so different. You, of all of our siblings, have the biggest right to hate. To hate  _me._  I lied to you. We all did, and I  _left_. I abandoned you. The rest of us cling to the past, letting old wounds fester and corrupt us but  _you_  Castiel…you  _forgive._  I was probably the worst role model anyone could be, and yet here you are, trying to make me feel better."

Castiel looked away, jaw clenched. "I can  _never_  forgive Lucifer. For what he's done. To the world, and to you."

Gabriel sighed, resting his chin on his hands, wings rustling. "You know, even after what he did…even after that… _violation,_  I can't hate him." He turned his head, looking at Castiel seriously. "Do you know why Castiel? Why even after…what he  _did…_ " The archangel glanced away swallowing, gathering himself back together. "I can never hate Lucifer, because he gave me  _you._  You are the only good thing he has ever done Castiel. And I'll always love him for that. In some ways, you're his salvation."

Castiel watched his brother, the emerging sun's rays dancing across his face. "Did you know?" he asked. "That I was…he was…"

Gabriel shook his head. "Not at first. But the way he was always lurking around you, like he was…  _waiting_ ; I guessed. It made sense then why Michael gave you to me. Michael's attempt to stave off the inevitable I suppose."

Castiel shook his head, staring back down at his hands. "Why didn't you tell me?" he asked tightly. "If everyone knew….why didn't anyone  _tell_ me?"

"That was probably my fault," Gabriel admitted softly. "Anyone who even _looked_  at you weird had to answer to me. I didn't want you feeling like you were different."

"But I  _was._  They all treated me like I was a freak."

Gabriel shrugged, feet shifting against Fenrir. "They were afraid. Lucifer was always fighting. I guess they expected you to do the same."

Castiel swallowed hard. "And you? You expected me to be like him too?"

The smile Gabriel gave him was unexpected. "No," his brother murmured. "No, I was afraid you'd leave. Or be taken from me." The archangel leaned forward on his arms again, frowning down at the steps beneath him. "Lucifer was the most charming and loved of all of us. You young ones loved him so much. Azazel always lurked around him like a love-struck puppy and you were so young…"

The archangel shrugged helplessly. "Something happened after you were born. God left us. I wasn't about to lose you as well."

Castiel sat in numbed shock, absorbing this. "So all of it was true," he finally said. "It was  _my_  fault that God left."

Gabriel looked at him sharply, frowning. "What? No of course not! I don't believe that for even a  _second._ And you shouldn't either."

"Then what about Michael and Lucifer? Their arguing."

Gabriel shook his head impatiently. "No. They argued because Lucifer was an impulsive and stupid  _bitch_. You had nothing to do with it, kiddo."

He reached out then, wings trailing along Castiel's, and the younger angel leaned into the touch, his own responding.

"I didn't want you growing up thinking you weren't  _you,"_ Gabriel said softly. "You owed him  _nothing._  You're special because you're you, not because of some selfish prick who claims he owns you. You hear me?"

Castiel ducked his head with a slight smile. "He used to terrify me," he admitted. "Well…he still does."

Gabriel chuckled at that. "I know. Used to make me feel pretty damn good when he'd come sniffing around you and you'd just run straight back to me. He couldn't  _stand_  it."

The archangel sobered. "There were a few times I think he seriously contemplated it. Just…grabbing you and flying away to the secret places he used to take Azazel, and I'd never see you again. It was my biggest fear. I couldn't watch you forever, even though I tried."

Castiel frowned at that. "What happened?"

Fenrir snuffled in his sleep, growling, and Gabriel stroked his foot against the wolf's back, soothing the beast. "Believe it or not, Raphael."

"Raphael?" Castiel asked incredulously. "You can't be serious."

"Oh yeah," Gabriel grinned. "She was like a  _hawk._  If Lucifer got within ten paces of you, she was there. Watching him with that serious glare of hers. Put him off I guess. He never tried anything."

Castiel shifted on the hard wooden step. "I find that hard to believe," he muttered. "She killed me remember?"

Gabriel heaved a deep sigh. "We're all very different creatures now. Raphael was a good archangel once. Sure, a little on the serious side, and  _way_  too testy, but she was a good sister. She looked out for all of us, even when Michael and Lucifer were being douches, and I was probably being annoying. Out of all of us, she was the one who never gave up."

He glanced back over at his younger brother, smiling slightly. "She's made bad choices. We all have. But if we're going to have  _any_ chance of beating Lucifer, we need to stand united. We need to be a  _family_ again. Raphael included."

He shrugged, foot still stroking Fenrir's back. "I thought I didn't know how to even do  _that_  anymore, something else to look back on and regret, but your stupid humans…" he shook his head with a smile. "If we could be even half as solid as they are, we could defeat Lucifer  _blindfolded_."

"I think you mean  _damaged_ , not solid _."_  The porch door slammed, and both angels turned to look at the yawning angel padding towards them. Balthazar was still wearing Sam's shirt, seemingly at ease with his state of undress as he settled down next to them, a coffee mug in one hand. He took a swig, grimacing at his mug as he stretched his long legs out along the porch steps. His wings nudged against Castiel's affectionately. "I've never seen such an odd bunch of riffraff in one place. Hell, there's a  _demon_  in there!"

There was a shuffle from inside the house. "That's  _crossroad_  demon thank you!" Came a shout from the kitchen, and all three angels shared smiles.

Balthazar shrugged. "I stand corrected."

The three angels sat together, watching the rising sun as they brushed their wings together, reassuring one another that they were all together again. Castiel sighed, stretched his legs out alongside Balthazar's.

"Why did Father leave?" he asked quietly.

Gabriel shook his head. "I honestly don't know," he murmured. "Maybe to try and make us more independent. Maybe he has other children to take care of. I just don't know, and I wish I did." He smiled at the wolf at his feet. "I'll tell you one thing though. He'd be pretty damn proud of all of us. And he'd want us to stop Lucifer. Maybe once this whole thing is over, we'll see Him again."

Balthazar looked wistful, resting his chin in his one hand as the coffee mug dangled from the other. "I don't even remember what He looked like."

Gabriel chuckled, one wing stretching out to draw them both closer to him. "He's whatever you want Him to look like Balthazar."

Castiel's grace thrummed with happiness at the feeling of two beloved brothers on either side of him, wings practically humming with joy. "I don't think he's truly gone."

"Oh?" Gabriel arched an eyebrow at him. "And where is he instead then?"

Castiel ducked his head, smiling. "Here," he murmured. "In moments like this. A broken family back together again."

Balthazar chuckled, reaching out to ruffle his hair affectionately. "That was  _ridiculously_  soppy little bro. But…nice."

 

* * *

 

When Dean finally awoke, Cas was gone. Puzzled, he retrieved his t-shirt and made his way upstairs. No-one was in the kitchen and the living room as also suspiciously empty. He'd been about ready to grab a shot gun when he heard laughing.

Peering through the porch door, Dean was relieved to see not only Cas, but also the rest of the house outside. Balthazar was leaning on the middle step, a coffee mug cradled in his hands, back against the railing as he laughed. Castiel was sitting on the step above him, legs leaning against his brother's as he grinned at the expressive archangel beside him. Gabriel seemed to be awake and telling a story.

Opening the door, Dean cautiously stepped out onto the porch.

Bobby was sitting in the chair, a pot of coffee beside him on the porch. The old hunter had nodded off in the sun, chin practically resting on his chest as he snored away, a coffee cup held loosely in his hands. It dangled precariously, close to being dropped, and just as it seemed it was going to meet its sudden porcelain end, a hand reached out and caught it as it fell, placing it gently down on the ground next to the coffee pot. Crowley then retreated back to his place leaning against the wall, arms crossed. He was still dressed in Bobby's old shirt and those ridiculous boxers, listening to the story Gabriel was telling.

Dean was about to head back inside and leave the supernatural creatures to their story time when he noticed his brother, sitting on the lowest step. Sam was practically sitting in the dirt, looking up at the archangel. Fenrir's large head swamped the younger Winchester's lap; the wolf's eyes half lidded as his tail thumped lazily against the ground. Sam was freaking  _petting_ the Norse god, running his fingers over the wolf's large skull, and rubbing behind his twitching ears. Fenrir rumbled happily, pushing his nose more firmly into Sam's hand, and Sam smiled down at him.

Dean paused, unsure if he was welcome at this little heartwarming scene. Castiel glanced over, eyes a vivid blue in the morning sun, and something in Dean's stomach flipped as the angel's eyes lit up, noticing him. Without interrupting his brother, the angel jerked his head with a smile. A clear  _get over here you boob_.

Quietly Dean approached, noticing that though Gabriel still looked worn out, his eyes were looking more alive, and he was definitely more expressive.

The archangel gestured wildly, throwing his arms up. "Then what happens? Well, Týr decides it would be a good idea to put his freaking _hand_  in Fenrir's mouth which was really, SPECTACULARLY stupid…"

Dean settled down on the step beside Cas, knee brushing against the angel's slightly. Cas had directed his attention back towards his brother, leaning on his arms behind him, so Dean jumped slightly as he felt the angel's hand rest lightly against his ass. He shot a look at the smiling angel, but Cas kept his eyes on Gabriel. A quick look at the others showed no-one was paying attention, or cared, and after a moment Dean relaxed, pressing his leg more firmly against Castiel's in acknowledgement.

They all stayed like that for the rest of the morning, listening to Gabriel's wild tales of his Nordic exploits; the oddest looking pack the world had ever known.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for season 6! Some slight Lucifer/Eve, I dunno.

Deep underground, trouble was brewing.

War trailed after his brothers, glancing around the large underground cavern they found themselves in. He inhaled deeply, wrinkling his nose at the stench of sulfur.

"Ugh. It stinks of demon in here," he complained, earning himself a glare from some of the demons walking on either side of him. The stone walls of the cavern were ancient, pale tendrils of moss winding their way up its craggy face. The surrounding air was close and smoky, fueled by open flames that flickered from within deep cracks in the ground; casting eerie shadows as they moved by.

This was an ancient place. No man had ever tread here, and the very walls thrummed with old magic. The assembled demons cast wide eyed looks at each other as they reached the middle of the room; noticing the four figures assembled at the mouth of the vast cavern, three men and a woman. Behind them yawned a black crevasse, a bottomless pit where horrors, no man could imagine, inhabited.

Noticing them, War ignored the demons trying to hold him back and strode over, grinning wildly. "Oh man, check it out!" He leant in close, eyeing one man curiously. "I've never seen one so up close before. How do you  _fit_ yourself in such a tiny form?"

The man, short and middle-aged, growled at him, eyes flickering a reptilian green. "With great difficulty."

Pestilence leaned over; snagging his brother's arm and pulling him back into the protective company of the horsemen. "Get over here you child," he hissed nervously, eyeing the four creatures warily.

War pouted, wincing slightly as it pulled his bruised and broken nose. "Oh come on, it's not every day we get to see dragons." He made to move forward again but Famine hooked his fingers into the waistband of his slacks, the frail horseman shaking his head with a cough.

The dragon wearing the form a blonde housewife snorted, small wisps of smoke trailing from her nostrils. "I can't imagine why. Oh wait," her eyes glowed with the fire of something dangerous lurking within. "Maybe because we were hunted to  _extinction_."

War crossed his arms, inching back to stand behind Pestilence. "Yeesh, touchy touchy," he muttered. "You're not the first to experience annihilation you know. I had to declare war on  _something_  after the crusades."

The dragons looked away, all dipping their heads respectfully as Lucifer appeared from the shadows. The devil looked even wearier than before, the dark circles under his eyes deepening. His eyes were bright however as he looked over at the horsemen.

"Try not to insult our hosts so quickly, War."

Death looked disinterestedly at him, finger tapping against the dark wood of his cane. "I don't suppose you're going to tell us why we're here?"

Lucifer smiled at him, the fires casting terrifying shadows across his face. "Surely you've guessed by now?"

A scream echoed throughout the cavern, bouncing off the walls. Two demons appeared, a young woman slumped between them. She was young, no more than eighteen, clad in a simple white gossamer dress. She was crying, her face shiny in the light as she struggled to free herself from the iron grips on her arms; digging her feet against the hard rock, leaving bloody smudges as she was dragged along.

"P…please. Just let me go!" she pleaded with the demons, voice trembling. "I…I won't tell anyone, I  _promise_."

She was unceremoniously dumped in front of Satan. The dragons glanced at each other, nodding slightly and turning away to face the darkness behind them. Slowly they joined hands, murmuring strange reptilian words into the darkness.

Lucifer crouched in front of the sobbing girl, reaching out to push her greasy brown hair behind one ear. She cringed away from him, and he clucked at her gently. "Hush dear. Jennifer wasn't it?"

The girl nodded weakly, tears still tracking down her face. "Please Mister. Just…just let me go. I just want to go home."

Lucifer smiled at her. "Do you believe in God, Jennifer?"

The girl looked at him, before giving a miserable nod. The dragons chanted louder, their joined hands beginning to glow red. Lucifer reached down, hauling the girl up by the arm and she whimpered, legs too weak to hold herself up after weeks in captivity.

"Jennifer, you lived a good life," Lucifer murmured, carrying the girl over towards the dragons. "You never disobeyed your parents, or went out drinking, and  _definitely_  didn't fool around with any boys. Thanks for that by the way." He winked at her, his other hand patting her on one grimy shoulder. The girl stared up at him, eyes wide and legs trembling.

"You were a good girl. The type that should make God happy. Do you think God is happy with you Jennifer?"

She was crying again. " _Please,_ " she shook her head, sniffing pitifully. As if she knew there would be no savior riding to her rescue. "I want to go home."

"Shh baby girl. Don't cry," Lucifer said soothingly, pulling the girl into a tight hug. Her dirty hands clung to his shirt as sobs wracked her petite body.

"You've been such a good girl," Lucifer crooned. "And for that, I'll let you go."

She looked up at him with shining eyes, hope reignited. "You…you will?"

Lucifer nodded. "Oh yes."

Still smiling, Lucifer stepped back, giving the girl a push. She stared blankly at him for a moment, tottering on weak legs before tumbling backward; into the dark void. The girl's screams echoed around cavern as Lucifer peered over the ledge, watching her downward spiral into the darkness.

"Whups. I let go," he grinned.

The dragons chanting grew louder. With a spring in his step, Lucifer turned and approached the horsemen, Death glaring daggers at him.

"Was that really necessary?" he demanded, and the devil shrugged.

"Maybe not. Now if you please gentlemen, I'm in need of your rings." He held out his hand, crooking his fingers.

With resentful grumbles, but having no choice but to obey, the horsemen reluctantly handed over their most treasured possessions. Lucifer was humming to himself as he took the four rings over to the dragons.

"Alrighty then. Let's get this party started!" he chirped.

The demons cowered as the cavern shook, loose dirt cascading down from the ceiling as the devil took his position at the ledge of the void, rings held aloft. Before their eyes, the rings clicked into one shape, melding together.

War blinked at that. "Woah. I didn't know they could do that."

Death looked grim. "There are a great many things they can do," he muttered. "Forming a key is but one of them."

Pestilence looked worried; sweat running down his face in sticky torrents. "A key to  _what_?"

As the horsemen watched, Lucifer held the key aloft, shouting words that rivaled the intensity of the dragons nearby. The cavern shook harder, flames angrily attempting to escape the jagged cracks in the ground.

The light of the flames danced across Death's face, the horseman appearing even more skeletal. "A door to purgatory."

With a grinding shriek, the black void erupted into a fire ball, and all four horsemen ducked their faces, arms upturned against the inferno. The deep rumbles underfoot trailed off, the cavern shifting back into stillness. Raising their heads, the horsemen stared at the creature now before them.

The girl Lucifer had sacrificed to the pit was no longer just a girl. She floated in midair, dress trailing around her as she levitated, her eyes a glowing red. Her hair was no longer limp or greasy; swirling around her in glossy brunette tendrils, her skin no longer crusted with dirt and sweat, instead a pale porcelain.

Lucifer smiled at her, stretching out his hand in offering. "Eve. Glad you could join us."

The Mother of All Monsters glanced down at him, eyes fading to a more normal brown, smiling slightly.

"Lucifer," she murmured. "My, how you've grown. Still as handsome as ever."

She extended a pale hand and Lucifer took it in his, kissing it briefly as he guided her onto the rocky ground. Her bare feet left glowing ember trails on the rock, and the dragons all fell to their knees before her.

She nodded towards them, before turning her attention back to the fallen angel in front of her. "To what do I owe the pleasure, Dark Prince?"

Lucifer spread his hands. "I find I have need of your…expertise."

Eve chuckled at that, turning away to study the nervous looking horsemen. "So I've heard. My children have been talking, and I hear them even through the veil of purgatory. You've been busy." She grinned, gracefully walking forward towards Death. "My my. If it isn't the horsemen. Thanks for bailing me out boys; it was getting kind of boring in there."

Death glared at her, taking a step in front of his brothers. "Not that we had much choice," he bit out, glowering darkly at an amused Lucifer. "If we did, I would never have let you out."

Eve sighed heavily, flicking her hair over one shoulder. "Oh come on Death, you're not still pissy about that whole Pompeii thing are you? I thought we'd gotten past that."

Pestilence cleared his throat, nose bleeding. "Well now we're not needed, we'll just be on our way."

War perked up at that, stepping forward and around his brother. "Yup, terribly busy killing people don't you know."

The smile Eve gave them was enough to even creep out Death. "Well you'll have to check with your  _Father_  of course…" She glanced over her shoulder, beckoning towards Lucifer who stood with his arms crossed and an amused smile on his face. "What do you think, beloved?"

Lucifer shrugged dismissively. "I suppose they've fulfilled their initial purpose. Eve?"

Eve clapped her hands together childishly, eyes glinting with joy. "Excellent! I think I'll start with the cute one," she winked at War. "Hello, handsome."

War's eyes widened as the Mother moved towards him, hands held up and desperately backing up, shoes scuffing against the hard rock beneath him. "Let's not get excited now," he said nervously. "You can't kill us you know."

Eve laughed, and the ground trembled again. "Oh honey, who said anything about killing?" she shook her head pityingly.

"Get away from him," Pestilence growled, weak rheumy eyes flashing. The horseman made to move in front of his brother but found himself stuck to the spot, unable to move anything. "What…what the hell?"

Death cursed as he found he was bound in the same way. He struggled against the force holding him in place, feeling, for the first time in many millennia, very afraid. "What is this?" he demanded. " _Lucifer_."

The devil grinned, one hand outstretched as he held back the horsemen. "Guilty."

Death and Pestilence continued to struggle against their invisible bonds.

"How are you even powerful enough?" Death demanded from between clenched teeth. "You shouldn't be able to do this!"

"What do you think I did in that cage all these years? Twiddled my thumbs?" Lucifer laughed, the sound harsh in the close air. "No. I studied. I  _evolved_. And now, I'm going to show the world just what I can do, and they will fear me once again."

Pestilence was still struggling. "Michael stopped you," he snarled. "He'll stop you again."

"Don't you say that name to me!" Lucifer roared, sending the assembled demons scurrying for cover. "Don't you  _dare,_ you filthy creature! _"_

Eve had reached War, and stretched out her fingers to touch his forehead. The horseman reacted violently, screaming beneath her fingers as the Mother reached into his very being. Pestilence fought harder against the devil, eyes and nose running with pus and fluid from his jerking.

"Get the fuck away from him!" he bellowed.

The devil had calmed himself again, and shook his head, clucking his tongue. "Ah ah ah," Lucifer chided the furious horseman. "You'll have your turn."

Eve's eyes had fluttered shut, her face a mask of ecstasy. "Oh honey," she crooned to the writhing horseman. "You're so… _violent_." She shivered happily, licking her lips slowly. "I could get used to this."

Death had stopped struggling, realizing the futility, but did not stop attempting to murder Lucifer with his eyes. "What is this madness?" he demanded, ignoring his screaming brother.

Eve glanced over, opening her eyes that were beginning to glow red again. "Didn't he tell you? It's a new world baby-cakes." She shrugged one shoulder absently. "I work so much better when I have a blueprint to work from. Creating out of thin air tends to yield…poor results."

Death's eyes widened. "You self-centered  _brat,_ " he spat at the smirking devil. "You're toying with forces you can't control. It'll be the end of you."

"Perhaps," Lucifer acknowledged. "But what a ride huh?"

With a groan, eyes rolling back in his head, War slumped to the ground in a boneless heap. In her hand, Eve held a glowing sphere of energy, a mess of black and red. The horsemen watched in horror as the Mother rolled it between her hands, sucking her bottom lip thoughtfully as she cocked her head to the side.

"Hmm…I'm thinking something…dark." With a flourish, she dug her fingers into the sphere, the colors swirling beneath her fingers and molding to her touch as easily as bread dough. Before their eyes, a shape took form; something dark and monstrous.

Eve cradled the monstrosity to her chest, cooing at it. "What should I call you then, precious?"

War was curled on the floor, gasping. A black-red fluid leaked from his eyes and mouth as the horseman writhed in agony. "I hear…Bob is a hit with…the kids these days," he managed to say, in-between grunts of pain.

The sickly thing in her arms moved, and Eve hummed at it, eyes sparkling.

"Hush sweetheart," She directed at the horseman at her feet. "You'll wake the baby."

A dragon shuffled forward, arms outstretched, and Eve handed the creature to it, running her fingers along the thing she had created. She glanced over at the other three horsemen, teeth sharp in the red glow of the cavern.

"We got a long night ahead of us gentlemen. I guess we better get started."

 

* * *

 

One thing was for sure, with Gabriel around no-one ever went hungry. Sam stared incredulously at the groaning table in front of him, all types of food heaped onto its creaking top. He wondered if he should regret suggesting lunch. Bobby reached around his shocked shape to grab a burger. "So I guess we're no closer to stoppin' the devil than we were before."

Gabriel was seated across from him, happily digging into a pile of pancakes you could barely see beneath the hundred layers of whipped cream and maple syrup. "I couldn't glean much from him," the archangel admitted. "I got a few flashes here and there. Something about a cavern."

Crowley swallowed, a pile of French fries in front of him. Apparently it was a demon thing. "So, I'm still a tad confused as to what Lucifer wants with our beloved Clarence," he said, gesturing towards Castiel, who stood behind a seated Dean. Who was currently attempting to inhale five different types of pie, now and then offering a taste to the bemused angel behind him.

Balthazar shrugged, leaning over the demon to grab at his fries. "Cause he's hot stuff of course."

The demon slapped the angel's hands away, glowering darkly as he defended his food.

Gabriel shrugged, licking syrup from the corners of his mouth. "Castiel is the last living angel that carries a part of Lucifer's grace. Judging from…"

The archangel trailed off, a haunted look in his eyes. Wordlessly, Castiel leant over, touching the angel's shoulder reassuringly and Gabriel shook himself, coming back to them and shooting a smile at his brother. "Um…let's just say that Lucifer wants to build an army. An army to not only take over heaven, but repopulate the earth. Lucifer basically wants to be  _God."_

Balthazar sighed heavily at that. "Wonderful. He's crazier than a March hare on acid if he thinks  _that's_ going to succeed. Even if he did get his little devil mitts on you Cassie, it takes millennia for fledglings to mature. His army would take a while."

Bobby frowned at his half-eaten burger. "What if he gets help?"

Gabriel snorted, shoveling another generous helping of pancake into his mouth. "Help from who? There's no-one powerful enough on Earth to…" The fork of pancake paused at his mouth, his eyes suddenly wide and shocked. "Oh no."

In a flurry of pancake and whipped cream, Gabriel had pushed away from the table, hurrying into Bobby's study. The sound of books falling over and pages scattering sent the old hunter hurrying after him, burger forgotten.

"Hey be careful!" Bobby yelled. Gabriel ignored him, scanning the old texts along the desk and shelves.

"Why didn't I think of it before?" he muttered to himself angrily. "Of  _course_ , that's why he needed the damn horsemen.  _Stupid._ "

Apparently finding the text he was looking for, Gabriel flicked it open, fingers scanning across the thin pages desperately. Crowley watched him, his plate of French fries in his hands as he continued to eat.

"Mind sharing with the class, love?" the demon asked between bites.

Finding the page, Gabriel slammed the book down on the desk, forcing a pained groan from Bobby. "There's no creature on Earth powerful enough to help him make an army. But there is in  _purgatory,_ " he said grimly, his finger tapping a picture. "Eve. The bastard is summoning Eve."

Crowley sucked in a gasp, eyes wide, a French fry half way to his mouth. Everyone crowded forward, looking down at the depiction of an old wood carving.

Dean made a face. "Great. Lucifer is summoning a really fugly hag?"

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "No. He's summoning  _Eve_ , Mother of all Monsters. No affiliation with Adam and Eve before you ask, she just liked the name." Gabriel gestured at the picture. "She created the stuff you guys hunt. Vampires, werewolves, ghouls, you name it, she made it. She can make monsters out of  _thin air_."

Sam glared down at the picture. "Great. What are we supposed to do now? This is just going from crap, to worse, to  _Titanic_ proportions."

"And this time our hearts won't go on," Balthazar added miserably.

"Ok let's not panic," Bobby said, holding up his hand. "We don't know for sure. First things first, we find out about this Eve. There's gotta be a way to kill her and I'd rather know it early. In the meantime…" The old hunter looked over at Castiel. "You ain't going anywhere sunshine. You stay put here and out of trouble until we can figure this stuff out. I ain't havin' Lucifer stealin' you off too."

Gabriel nodded. "We should get some wards up. Luc will be back, and this time we're gonna be prepared." He looked over at the Winchesters. "Thing 1 and Thing 2 can help me."

Crowley's plate clattered as the demon hurriedly put it down on the desk. "I'll help," he offered.

Bobby nodded. "Alright. Let's get it done."


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight Sabriel, mostly just friends though, and some Eve/Lucifer coz...well. They're both evil and snarky.

The sun filtered through the rustling leaves of the tree overhead, and Gabriel heaved a deep sigh, eyes fluttering shut at the peaceful stillness of the afternoon. Beneath his head, Fenrir answered him a happy sigh of his own, large ribcage expanding and forcing the angel practically into a sitting position. Smiling, Gabriel playfully dug an elbow into the furry belly beneath him, eyes still closed.

"Hey fleabag, knock it off back there."

Fenrir huffed to himself, ear flicking lazily and tail thumping against the earth rebelliously. When Gabriel had excused himself from the epic research party currently ongoing in the study to have some quiet time on his own, he hadn't counted on actually being  _joined_. Alone-time had somehow turned into cuddle-time.

Castiel curled against his right side, his head pillowed on Gabriel's outstretched arm, wings drawn up tightly against his back. Gabriel's right wing was cocked around the younger angel, trailing his feathers along his brother's snoozing form. On his left, Balthazar was sprawled on his back, one arm flung over his eyes and wings outstretched either side of him, just brushing against Gabriel's left wing.

He should probably be annoyed that he was basically being coddled and babysat,  _at his age_ , but it was actually kind of…nice. Though a dark part of him just wanted to curl up in a ball and pine away, his grace felt stronger with his brothers nearby.

Gabriel opened his eyes, blinking up at the blue sky. He could still feel it; the empty fathoms of something torn from him, leaving a jagged wound in its place. Lucifer's grace had been a hot searing pain, lancing through his and forming something Gabriel hadn't thought possible. He had even…felt her for a moment. A split second where she  _lived_ , as improbable as it was. It was a small mercy the fledgling didn't survive, Gabriel could sense the corruption within it, the twisted shape his grace had helped form. But that didn't stop him from feeling grief, of mourning the empty space within him.

As if sensing his brother's distress, Castiel's wings rustled, pressing against Gabriel's wing more firmly. The archangel came back to himself, shooting an affectionate grin down at the dark head of hair nuzzled against his side. Yeah, Lucifer was a giant bag of dicks. But the hole he had ripped in Gabriel would heal; knitted back together with the help of his  _real_  family.

The porch door swung open, squeaking sullenly, and Gabriel looked over to see the tall form that could only be Sam Winchester emerge, a mug in either hand. Carefully, the human made his way down the steps, eyes trained on his beverages. Reaching the bottom step, he shifted his shoulders, slowly making his way over to the dozing angels.

Gabriel arched an eyebrow as the human neared, sniffing the air suspiciously.

"Is that…is that  _chocolate_  I smell Samantha?"

Sam smiled shyly, offering one mug out, for once ignoring the nickname. "I figured you'd gone without sugar for a whole half hour. Don't want you wasting away."

Gabriel reached up with his left arm, taking the warm mug and frowning at it contemplatively. Without disturbing the dozing Castiel beside him, he flicked his right fingers and suddenly the mug was overflowing with whipped cream with chocolate flakes. Sam blinked down at his own, shaking his head as he found it stuffed to the brim with marshmallows.

"Figured," he said amusedly.

Gabriel took a sip of the warm gooey mess, eyes fluttering in pleasure. "Oh man. This is good. You are a god among chocolaty goodness. Thanks."

The Winchester smiled uncertainly, standing awkwardly over the angels. "No problem. I uh…didn't mean to disturb."

Gabriel glanced down at the others making a face. "I'm apparently a mattress," he jerked his head. "Well don't just stand there looking ravishing, have a seat down here in nap corner."

He was strangely touched when Sam did, settling down on the dirt cross-legged, cradling his mug in his hands. He and the Winchester hadn't exactly started off on the right foot, and the fact the human was  _still_  generous enough to bring him hot chocolate despite that…well maybe Gabriel could extend an olive branch too.

_Oh boy._

"Hey I um…" Gabriel watched as Sam took a drink, managing to get marshmallow goop on his nose. The Winchester was vainly trying to reach his nose with his tongue to lick it off and it was intensely distracting. What was he…oh yeah.

"I uh…I never got a chance to apologize," he finally managed, Sam wiping the goop of his nose with the back of his hand in defeat.

"For what?" Sam's brown eyes were genuinely confused, and Gabriel felt another rush of affection for the odd family Castiel had put together.

Gabriel smiled briefly at him, Fenrir huffing softly beneath him, the wolf's paws twitching. "You know…before. For being a dick.  _A lot._  TV land…being a Trickster, that whole…" The archangel cast a quick look down at Castiel, lowering his voice to a whisper. "Killing Dean thing."

Sam blinked at him for a moment, a deep grief flickering briefly across his eyes before shaking his head. "I think we're past that now."

Gabriel winced. Yeah he had really messed up there. "Doesn't excuse it. It was a  _really_ dick move on my part. I just…forget sometimes how time is different for you guys." He frowned. "And forget what I am. Trickster or angel? It all runs together. So I'll just say it again. I'm sorry."

Sam nodded, ducking his head again to stare at his mug. "Thanks," he said quietly.

The leaves continued to rustle overhead. An inquisitive ant wandered across Balthazar's nose and the angel swatted it away grumpily, still half asleep. Gabriel shifted, the edges of his trapped wing trailing along Balthazar's and the angel drifted back into his nap.

Sam was still contemplating his hot chocolate like it held all the answers to the universe. "I should be the one apologizing," he mumbled. "I'm the one who started this whole mess. If I hadn't let Lucifer out…you wouldn't have been captured and…well."

Gabriel snorted to himself. "Kid, there were forces at work that you could never have anticipated. No-one blames you. You wanna play the self-blame card? Get in line behind the rest of us sorry bastards."

Sam didn't look convinced, and Gabriel shook his head. "How about we blame the dick who's currently rampaging around,  _being_  said huge dick huh? All this crap is  _Lucifer's_ fault."

Sam laughed then, the guilt in his gaze lightening slightly as he nodded, taking a sip of his drink. "Ok. Got it."

Gabriel could still sense the self-doubt swirling within the young man though. The burden he carried was heavy, and Gabriel found himself wanting to help him. The Winchesters had been through so much  _shit,_ (some of it from him) and Gabriel just wanted to make it better.

Sam smiled at the angels still sleeping at the archangel's side, nodding towards them. "You guys really are a family. After only seeing angels all righteous and soldier like…it's kinda weird. Especially Cas."

"You're telling me," Gabriel grumbled. "Here I am cuddling with two  _grown ass angels,_ " he said pointedly, wriggling his arm. Castiel mumbled something halfheartedly, curling closer and tightening his wings against him. Balthazar groaned and rolled onto his other side, wings fluttering against Gabriel's.

Gabriel shook his head at them both, Fenrir's fur tickling his ears and cheeks. "See, back in the old days,  _before_  Raphael turned us all into jumped up warriors with giant sticks up our asses, heaven was a lot like this. Quiet, peaceful."

The darkness in Sam's eyes had disappeared, replaced by a shining curiosity, and the human shifted closer. "Yeah? What was it like?"

Gabriel smiled at him. "We used to have nests, of a kind. Closest way I can describe it to you is clouds. Cloud nests."

"So you really are pigeons then," Sam teased, and Gabriel chuckled, wings shivering happily.

"Pretty much. We'd talk, and groom each other, sing God's praises. We were a relatively normal family once upon a time."

Sam's face sobered for a moment. "Yeah. So were we."

Refusing to let the young man fall back in a dark place of regret, Gabriel continued. "Every angel had their own nest, though most of the time we shared. Believe it or not, angels don't like being alone." He shot a smile down at Castiel, reaching around to card his right hand through the younger angel's wild hair.

Castiel murmured, hands tightening possessively where they were buried in the soft under down of Gabriel's right wing, and the archangel grinned at the familiar action.  _Old habits die hard, huh kiddo?_  He thought affectionately.

Sam had finished his drink, and now sat rolling the mug between his hands idly. "Can I ask you something?"

Gabriel looked back over at the human, still carding his hand gently through Castiel's hair. "Sure, sasquatch. Shoot."

He got a halfhearted glare for his nickname efforts. "What…what was God like?"

Gabriel closed his eyes briefly, struggling to recall. "It's hard to describe. Closest word I can think of is  _awesome._ " Opening his eyes, he looked over at Sam again, eyes soft. _"_ And He loved you guys so much. You were just an amoeba back then, but He was so excited about you. Couldn't wait to watch you grow up. Like any young father I suppose."

Sam frowned. "You mean…He never got to see?"

Gabriel shook his head, Fenrir snuffling at the movement, tail thumping slowly against the dirt. "I don't know. God just stopped talking to us one day. Some think He died. Others think He left. Me…well. I just don't know."

Sam had shifted forward, his chin propped up on his hand as he watched the snoozing angels. "I'm sorry."

Gabriel grinned, eyes sparkling. "I'm not. Who'd I have to annoy then? You and your brother are the best entertainment around!"

He would never get tired of the sheer amount of different bitchfaces Sam Winchester possessed. Or of having them all directed at him. "Ha ha."

There was something questioning in the human's face, eyes bright and curious. Gabriel rolled his eyes shifting his numb arm. "If you want to know something, just ask. Out with it kid."

Sam hesitated for a moment, unsure. "I just…say if God _wasn't_ gone. Would He uh…would He…"

The human floundered for a moment, eyes downturned and fingers fidgeting with his mug. "Would He think I was an abomination? That…I…" He swallowed hard, shrugging one shoulder. "I did bad things. Would He…forgive me?"

Gabriel couldn't remember the last time he'd wanted to hug someone so badly, Castiel excluded. "Sam, look at me."

The human did, and Gabriel took a deep breath at the pure look of guilt residing there, setting his mug on the ground.  _What is it with this family? Guilt city!_

"Look, I've been around," he said gently. "I've seen evil, and I've seen good. Hell, I've been both myself. And you, are one of the good ones."

Sam opened his mouth to protest, and Gabriel cut him off with a glare. "And I know you're set on this whole guilt thing, but I'm gonna have to disappoint you, sport. If God were here? He'd probably give you a freaking gold medal for all the shit you've had to put up with and still managed to come out the other side so pretty. And that's the gospel truth."

Sam rolled his eyes at that as Gabriel waggled his eyebrows suggestively, but the smile he gave the archangel was genuine. "Thanks. I think."

"God would be proud of you kid," Gabriel murmured. "I know the rest of us are.  _Especially_ that idiot you call a brother. Thank God at least  _one_  of you Winchesters inherited the brains and good looks of the family."

There was a bony prod in his side and Gabriel grinned unrepentantly down at the frowning Castiel still pretending to be asleep. The angel dug his finger more firmly in the soft flesh of his side and Gabriel yelped, jerking his arm and ruffling the angel's wings in retaliation. The jostling woke Balthazar, who sat up hurriedly, blinking owlishly as he looked around expecting trouble.

"What, what?" he demanded. Noticing the minor pushing and poking battle Gabriel and Castiel were currently engaged in, the angel grinned mischievously, rolling the sleeves of his shirt up.

"Make room, champion brawler coming through!" he bellowed, diving into the fray, forcing a high pitched squeak from Castiel as he grabbed a hold of one wing.

Fenrir sighed to himself as he rolled over onto his back, providing a warm furry platform for the angels to roll across. Gabriel was laughing hard, tears streaming down his cheeks as Castiel found the most ticklish parts of his wings; Balthazar mercilessly tickling his sides.

Sam blinked at the scene, not able to stop the wide grin as he watched the angels bicker and play fight. At one point something soft and feathery smacked him in the face though he couldn't see anything, and Sam spluttered for a moment, torn between excitement that he just experienced his first angel wing, and indignation that he was being dragged into a childish tickle fight.

Fenrir gazed at him amusedly, head cocked. " _I believe my Father is in need of…how do you say…_ _ **reinforcements**_ _."_

Balthazar had pinned the archangel on his back, Castiel 's hair sticking in all directions as he dove for Gabriel's kicking foot.

Sam shook his head, holding up his hands. "Oh no. I'm not getting involved in angel politics. For one, I'm actually an  _adult._ "

All three angels stopped then, blinking over at him. Sam was genuinely worried as a look that could only be described as  _calculating,_ was exchanged between all three.

Balthazar was inching towards him, eyes glittering. "Oh really? Perhaps we could give you a crash course on… _angel politics_."

Gabriel winked suggestively, and Sam began a panicked scuttle backwards. "Lesson one: resistance is futile."

"Uh Cas?" Sam asked worriedly, hands scuffing the dirt as he did his best to scoot away.

The angel in question looked positively  _smug_ , crossing his arms and smiling slightly. " _Defend_  yourself, Winchester."

Sam's hollers for mercy went unheeded as the angels fell on him, his hysterical laughs cracking across the yard as he was tickled and poked within an inch of his life.

Eventually his shouting brought Dean running, who was appalled to find his brother under attack. The other Winchester waded in, ready to defend his little brother to the death, but was unfortunately taken down by a wing to the back of the head and a grinning Castiel.

Gabriel cupped his hands to his mouth, mimicking the trumpeting of a horn. "Victory! Victory is ours!" he bellowed.

Sam was gasping, eyes watering as he struggled to get his breath. "N…never," he managed defiantly, hand dramatically outstretched towards the bemused Nordic God still lounging nearby watching them. "F…Fenrir! Help us!"

Gabriel gasped, clutching his heart. "No! Not the dreaded furball of the North!" he cried. "Anything but that!"

Fenrir sighed deeply. " _I am torn between amusement, and denial that I am in any way affiliated with you._ "

The archangel cackled triumphantly, diving back down to poke an exhausted Sam. "Ah-ha! Your cavalry will not come to help you Samuel! You are doomed!"

Dean was on his front, hands scrabbling in the dirt as Castiel sat on his back, the angel's fingers suspiciously knowing exactly where to tickle the hunter.

"Sammy…" he gasped. "It's… _over_."

Sam groaned, trying to escape Gabriel and ended up rolling right into a grinning Balthazar who immediately dove for his sides. "Alas cruel…world. Cut down…in our prime," he wheezed.

Fenrir rose to his paws, casting a suffering glance at the heavens. " _If it will cease your dramatics, very well."_  The wolf ducked his head low, front legs stiff, as he joined their play. " _I warn you foul creature. Release the Winchesters and I may let you live."_

Gabriel slapped the back of his hand to his head dramatically. "Your words! They wound me!" he cried, fake sobbing.

Balthazar released Sam long enough to dive for the wolf, wrapping his arms around the Fenrir's neck and trying to pull the God down to the ground. With mournful eyes, the wolf allowed it, toppling over onto his side as Gabriel darted in to sinks his fingers into the wolf's soft belly fur.

" _Oh no,"_  Fenrir droned. " _I have fallen in battle. Woe is me. Help. Help."_

With a war cry, Sam rose up; tackling the shorter archangel around the waist, and the battle for victory was renewed among squeals and laughter.

So wrapped up in the innocent moment of levity, the group didn't notice the dark figure stealing through the bushes along the fence line; right where the wards were.

 

* * *

 

Meadow Green Estates had been marketed as a luxurious gated community. It was still in development, most of the houses were only half-built, lacking roofs, and even more still needed plumbing and electricity. Only one house actually had running water and electrics, and it had belonged to Sarah Brooks, the project developer.

Now her corpse lay amongst her workers; piled into a shallow pit roughly scratched into the field that had been planned to be a playground. A ghoul shuffled between the bodies, plucking choice pieces of flesh from a few and popping the delicacies into its mouth. Some demons watched it from nearby, others milling about absently. At the large ornate gate that opened into the housing development, a pack of vampires patrolled. Monsters were pouring in, attracted to the presence of their maker and heeding her call to arms.

Inside the late Sarah Brook's house, Eve reclined on an expensive looking red couch, head propped up on her arm as she idly stroked the head of the creature lying on the floor beside her. It was large; vaguely canine shaped with a thick chest and four legs. A short stubby tail slowly wagged from side to side, its fur a slick dark blood red, ringed with black. Smoke curled from its mouth as it panted, glowing red eyes half lidded with pleasure. Down its spine were bony black protrusions that shifted against each other; dangerous death tipped barbs. Long lethally curved fangs arched down the sides of its muzzle, serrated and perfected for killing.

A true dog of War.

Eve rubbed its ears fondly. "I'm quite proud of these ones," she mused. "Don't think I've ever made such a batch of pretty little monsters."

Lucifer merely grunted. The devil sat a mahogany desk, an old and ancient scroll carefully spread in front of him. His fingers traced the spidery lines etched into the yellowed parchment, eyes focused and sharp.

Eve sighed to herself, rubbing her monster under the chin. "Daddy is such a workaholic." At the sound of her voice, something sickly moved beneath the couch, whining to itself.

War's hound growled at it, spines along its back stiffening as flames danced in its eyes, and Eve scolded it, tapping her finger against its nose. "Ah, ah precious," she chided. "Play nicely with your brothers."

Baleful yellow eyes looked out mournfully from the shadows, as another creature shuffled into the light. It was an ashen grey, its skin rubbery and pasty as it pulled itself forward, blackened fingers digging into the carpet. It was vaguely humanoid, thin and scraggly with no hair or fur, nails talon-like and dirty. Weeping sores gaped across its arms and legs, the surrounding skin black and green; giving off a sweet stench that filled the room. Painfully, pulling itself along, it inched over towards Lucifer, settling down on its side under his chair and wheezing harshly.

His attention finally distracted, Lucifer glanced down at it grimacing. "Sounds like a dying cat," he grumbled, nudging it with his foot.

Eve laughed, her chestnut hair swinging against her cheeks. "You mean he'll never win a beauty contest? Don't listen to him my little scourge," she crooned at the creature, fluttering her eyelashes. "You're perfect just the way you are."

Something was weakly clambering up the side of the couch, and noticing it, Eve reached over, stretching out her hand to the pitiful creature. "Whoopsy daisy, honey. Careful or you'll snap something."

Famine's monstrous offspring wasn't much better. An anorexic-looking Gollum, it wavered on weak legs, breathing heavily from straining lungs, its ribs moving beneath its stretched transparent skin as it pressed up against Eve's side.

Lucifer rolled his eyes at its pitiful display. "Wonderful. When you said you'd make me an army, I didn't expect  _babysitting_  to be a part of it. They're hardly capable of taking on heaven in this state."

"Patience, dearest," Eve murmured, running her fingers over the bony spine of the creature against her side. "They're growing as fast as they can. Give them a day or two."

There was a happy bark, and War's hound rose to its paws, bounding forward and spanking the ground with stiff front legs; flames flickering from its mouth. The creature that had attracted its attention remained where it was, eyes blank and unseeing as it ignored its sibling.

Death had fathered a reaper like creature. It had no mouth or visible nose, merely two opaque milky white eyes, set in a deathly pale triangular face. A long black scythe like tail whipped behind it irritably, the tip a sharpened serrated blade of bone. Two leathery skeletal wings were folded against its back, hands and feet more talon-like than human.

It sat perfectly still, blind eyes tracking Eve's every movement as she rose from the couch, clucking at the monstrous hound as she moved by. The Mother padded over to the frowning devil, stooping down to twine her arms around his neck, resting her chin on his shoulder and glancing at the parchment. Her fingers rubbed inviting circles against his chest as she pressed her lips against the shell of his ear.

"So. What's our next move? My children grow ever restless, Lucifer."

Lucifer pushed the parchment away from him, fingers tapping the desk as Eve pressed herself against him.

"They're a sight to see, I'll give you that." He frowned, not reacting as Eve nipped his ear playfully; running her tongue over the reddening flesh. "But if we're going to take on heaven, we need an army powerful enough to do it." He glanced sideways at the monstrous creatures Eve had made. War's hound was still attempting to prod Death's reaper into play, barking and prancing around the seated monster, who merely stared blankly into space.

"Not that I doubt your abilities Eve, but I don't think they make the cut."

The Mother sniffed haughtily, pulling away from the devil and crossing her arms. "Just you wait. They'll prove themselves. Won't you sweetie pie?" She crouched, pulling the sickly wheezing creature out from beneath Lucifer's chair. The thing went willingly, groaning at her as the movement tugged its weeping wounds.

Eve hauled it into her arms, straightening. She cocked a hip as the creature wound its festering arms around her neck needily. "Don't you worry about your army. It'll deliver. But what about your Aryan plans of world domination?"

Lucifer growled to himself, fingers curling into a fist against the desk, eyes flashing. "I need that angel."

Eve moved back towards the couch, settling down. Famine's creature reached for her with shaking fingers, latching onto her arm as the Mother relaxed back into the couch, Pestilence's scourge still in her arms. The sickly creature hissed weakly at its brother as the Gollum like monster attempted to clamber onto Eve's lap.

Apparently at ease with her monstrous children, Eve shrugged. "If you want that silly angel so badly, why don't you go get him?"

Lucifer glared over at her. "They've wised up. With Gabriel back with them, I don't have much of a chance of getting near."

Eve snorted, shifting the creature in her arms more comfortably against her hip. "Says the angel who managed to overpower the four horsemen."

Lucifer looked back down at the scroll in front of him. "Two different things, dear. Archangels are a tad different." He leant back in his chair, the wood creaking. "I was lucky last time, I surprised him. I bet he won't fall for it again."

Pushing away from the desk, the devil stood, stretching his back with an audible click. "I hadn't expected that monster of a wolf either. They're gaining allies."

Eve snorted, jostling the two on her lap. "You mean that mangy pup calling himself a God? Hmph. I bet  _my_  puppy would sort that one out, wouldn't you baby?"

Realizing it was being spoken to, War's hound trotted back over, whining happily as it snuffed its hot breath against Eve's bare leg.

Lucifer watched it amusedly. "Besides, I can't leave. The hold I have over the horsemen is….tenuous at best. Leaving them would release them, and I'm loathe to release them until you have reduced them to nothing but shadows of their former selves. After all…" The devil moved over towards the window, looking out over the landscape as he clasped his hands behind his back. "Our new world will not need them."

Eve smiled flirtatiously. "Honey, you know just the right things to say to a girl. But if you want me to do something, you're going to have to ask."

Lucifer turned away from the window, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly. "Very well. Would you be so kind as to retrieve something that belongs to me?"

Eve chuckled, eyes flashing red. "Oh it would be my pleasure. Give my babies a chance to stretch their legs."

She paused then, glancing down at her offspring. "But I'd imagine those pesky humans have protected themselves since last time you tried to storm their keep. What makes you think I'll have any more luck than your demons getting through those wards of theirs?"

Lucifer smirked, and something dark and gleeful danced in his eyes.

"Because this time, there is a rat in the proverbial chicken coop."


	15. Chapter 15

Gabriel was chewing something.

Judging by the sweet aroma that reminded him vaguely of watermelon, Dean was willing to bet that the angel was consuming an entire year's worth of Tutti Frutti gum. The archangel was sitting on the floor; his back against the couch and a forgotten book open on his lap. Gabriel had grown bored of researching and decided that it was far more entertaining to blow huge bubbles with said fruity gum; popping them loudly and grinning whenever Bobby threw him a glare.

It  _was_  more entertaining than research, and Dean spent the next ten minutes watching him and silently betting on how large the archangel could get the bubbles, and just when he'd eventually get it in his hair. Turned out he could get them bigger than his head. It only took two seconds after  _that_  to get it stuck in his eyebrows.

Bobby sat at his desk, ignoring them all as he read through book after book, now and then rubbing his fingers along his beard, frowning at the pages in front of him. Crowley was a dark slumped figure behind him, leaning against the wall with one shoulder as he absently flicked through a dusty leather bound book. The demon was surprisingly careful with the thin pages, squinting now and then at the spidery writing as he shifted into more comfortable positions.

Sam's sudden dramatic entrance into the study was a welcome distraction. The younger Winchester stomped into the room, hair flopping into his eyes as he pointed at his brother accusingly, lower lip threatening a pout.

"Dean you _jerk_ , what have you done with my hoody?" he demanded.

Dean shook his head, leaning back to balance precariously on the back two legs of his chair. "Hey don't look at me; I'm not the resident Trickster."

Sam turned his wrath onto Gabriel then, hands on his hips and bitch mode fully activated as he glared down at the archangel still picking gum out of his eyebrows. Gabriel shrugged, popping his bubble gum loudly as he rubbed his forehead. "Wasn't me. Though if you're talking about that ratty old blue thing, then it's probably a blessing it's missing. For us at least."

Sam's pout deepened, and he crossed his arms churlishly. "And what is  _that_ supposed to mean?"

Gabriel grinned up at him, clicking his tongue. "Oh sweetie. You're hot, but you have the fashion sense of a Morlock."

Cas leant over from his position on the couch, jostling Balthazar's feet on his lap. "They're blind," he supplied helpfully. "They also tend to live in sewers or other areas of-"

Sam uncrossed his arms to wave his hands around irritably. "Yeah. I got that. Thanks Cas." Dean couldn't help the chuckle that forced itself out, pretending to have a coughing fit when his brother glared over at him.

Bobby rapped his knuckles on the desk impatiently, ignoring Dean's spluttering. "Ladies. I know fashion is  _very_ important to you, but we're trying to stop an apocalypse here. You can borrow each other's dresses after."

Balthazar sighed heavily from his sprawled position on the couch. He lay on his back, legs thrown over Cas's lap as he attempted to not-so-subtly nap. An open book with a leather cover embossed with "Myths of the Cosmos" in gold covered his face, and slowly the angel lifted one corner to peek out at them.

"Alright, so to recap, the only thing we've managed to glean from the combined knowledge of four supernatural beings, some hunters and a bunch of dusty books is…" he paused dramatically, dropping the book cover back over his face. "We're fucked."

Bobby glowered at him. " _Everything_  can be killed, even a mother of monsters." He glanced back down at the book in front of him, callused fingers following a sentence. "There 'aint much about Eve, but a few texts mention a creature that's capable of killing pretty much anything. Maybe…even the devil."

That got everyone's attention; Gabriel pausing mid bubble. Sam forgot his missing hoody, hankering down to look at the text on the desk. "Awesome. What is it?"

Crowley pushed away from the wall, snapping his book shut with a flourish. "It's all a load of bollocks anyways. I'm telling you, the damn thing doesn't  _exist_."

Bobby ignored the demon, looking up at Sam as he tapped the old yellowed pages in front of him. "A phoenix."

Gabriel nearly choked on his gum; Cas leaning forward to slap his brother helpfully on the back. Balthazar struggled up, the book falling from his face to the floor with a thud.

"A phoenix. Really. Well I was wrong before. We're not fucked; we're utterly  _shagged to hell."_

Crowley smirked triumphantly, gesturing towards the angel. "See darling? Even the angels know the thing isn't real."

"Woah hold up," Dean scooted his chair closer. "You're saying that  _if_  we could get ahold of a phoenix, it might be able to kill not only Eve, but also Lucifer? " At Bobby's quick nod, Dean leant back, exhaling as he rubbed his jaw.

Sam looked doubtful, eyes worried. "I dunno Bobby. What would it do?  _Peck_ them to death?"

Gabriel seemed to have recovered from his coughing fit, and cleared his throat, eyes watering and voice raspy. "Well…a phoenix isn't necessarily a  _bird_  you know. Myth just depicts it as one.  _Technically_ a phoenix is defined as a creature that has resurrected itself, been reborn. You know, rising from the ashes and all that jazz."

Crowley had moved towards the window, glancing outside at the rapidly darkening yard. The sky was tinged red, the sun setting on yet another day where the devil roamed free. "So basically, you have no idea  _what_ it is, what it  _looks_  like or even  _where_ to look. Wonderful."

Bobby glanced over at Fenrir. The wolf lay on the floor of the living room; his large form half in the study and head on his paws. "How 'bout you mutt? You know anything about a phoenix?"

Fenrir opened his eyes slightly, ears flicking back briefly at the nickname. " _I am familiar with the legend of the fire bird._ " He raised his head, eyes narrowing. " _However I have never seen one. If such a creature exists, it does not reside in the North._ "

Dean had been leaning back in his chair again, and at Fenrir's words, slapped his hands down on his thighs, his chair thunking back down onto all fours. "Great. So if this skank Eve _has_  been summoned, we have no way of stopping her.  _Or_  Lucifer."

Bobby shook his head, pushing his chair away from the desk to stand. Grunting to himself, the old hunter placed both hands on the small of his back and leant back with a grimace as his spine cracked. "Now let's not hoist the white flag just yet. Just 'cause no-one's seen one, don't mean they aren't real." He moved around the desk, boots scuffing the carpet as he scanned the shelves for the next book to tackle. "We don't even know if this 'Eve' is really a problem. Maybe Lucifer decided to leave her be."

There was an unhappy sigh from the window, and Bobby turned at the sound. Crowley dropped the sheer curtain back in place, shoving his hands into the pockets of his black coat a he looked down at the floor, expression miserable.

"Oh she's a problem," the demon muttered. "In fact, I guess right now, she's  _our_ problem."

Gabriel got to his feet, moving towards the window. "Now, why did I not like the way you said that?"

Dean threw a glance at Sam as they both followed the archangel, Bobby not far behind. Light was fading fast, making it hard to see at first, but as their eyes adjusted to the shadows outside, the group could make out shapes along the fence.

A woman stood in front of them. A petite brunette, she looked no more than eighteen, dressed in a simple white dress and barefoot. She peered up at the fence curiously, button nose scrunching in apparent distaste. At her side stood three somber looking men, as well as a plump blonde housewife. And in front of  _them_ …

"The fuck is that?" Dean asked, voice slightly strangled as he pushed Sam's head aside to gawp for himself. "No seriously, what the  _fuck_ are those things?"

Balthazar was kneeling on the couch looking out, and pulled away, face slightly pale. "Butt ugly is what. And also bloody terrifying. I think I might need new pants."

Bobby was already moving. The hunter grabbed the shotgun that always leant beside his desk, and with a jerk of his head, Dean and Sam followed suite, headed for the stack of guns behind one of the bookshelves.

"That's for damn sure," Bobby said grimly. "Guess it was too much to hope for that Lucifer would give up that easy."

Gabriel swallowed his gum, still looking outside, hand on Cas's shoulder. "Don't worry. They can't get through the wards; I put those babies up myself."

The woman,  _Eve_ , was tapping one dainty foot impatiently as she crossed her arms. "Yoo-hoo! Anybody home?" she called. "Mind inviting us in?"

Bobby was scowling as he stomped back over, fumbling with the window latch. It clicked open, and with a growl, Bobby shoved the window open, ignoring Sam's worried whispers.

"Lady, you best get off my property before I get  _really_ mad!" he bellowed, cocking his shotgun loudly to make his point.

Grimly, Dean followed his example, pumping his shotgun smoothly as he nodded tersely over at Sam. Gabriel twirled his angel blade, murmuring something to Cas beside him. The angel nodded, his own blade sliding smoothly out from underneath his coat cuff. There was a tug of yearning in Dean's chest, a faint fluttering of desire and Dean sighed at himself. Now was  _not_  the time to start fangirling about how badass his angelic boyfriend was. Oh god he really just thought the word… _boyfriend._

Scowling, he kicked out at Sam's shin, catching his brother square on the bone.

"OW Dean!" Sam bitched at him, shifting away. "What the hell was that for?"

"You're a bad influence," Dean muttered. "I'm going to be lucky if I don't sprout ovaries at this rate."

Back outside, Eve was tittering to herself, as the monsters crouching at her side whined and slavered. "Oh my. I suppose chivalry really _is_ dead. Well, I suppose if you're not going to be courteous and show a girl in…I'll just do it myself."

With a shrug, the Mother stepped forward, across the wards and through the solid fence. The monsters at her side wailed happily, lurching forward after their creator, demolishing the fence in their path. The other four silent people remained where they were, but their eyes began to glow a reptilian gold and green in the dim light.

" _Balls,_ " Bobby swore, shooting a glare at the shocked archangel beside him. "What was that again? She won't get through huh?"

Gabriel shook his head. "The wards must have been compromised. Ah shit."

A disgusting pale thing squirmed along the ground, pulling itself forward on blackened arms towards the house. Cursing, Dean hurried into the living room, towards the larger window. Slamming the butt of his shotgun against the glass, he winced as he heard Bobby's groan of distress.

"Sorry Bobby," he muttered, knocking out the rest of the glass and aiming at the monster moving towards them. The bullet hit its target; tearing a chunk of blackened flesh from the thing's shoulder in a spray of black clotted blood. To his horror though, the thing shrugged it off, green and yellow pus filling the torn hole and knitting it back together as it continued on its sticky path.

A huge blazing hound over took it, bounding forward with its tongue lolling from a smoky mouth. Flames danced from its eyes and smoke curled from its nostrils as it panted up the steps. The house shuddered as the monster slammed its large frame against the door.

Sam turned panicked eyes towards the angels. "What the hell are those things? Can you stop them?"

Gabriel looked like he was in pain; eyes closed and a hand clasped to his head. "What do you think I'm doing?" he managed to bite out. "I can't…it's hard enough keeping those damn dragons at bay. They're strong bastards."

"Fu-DRAGONS?" Balthazar glanced back outside at the four still figures at the fence. "That's it. Women and angels first. Abandon ship buckos!"

Cas grabbed his brother's arm as the angel attempted to scamper into the kitchen. "We will do no such thing," he said firmly, dragging him back. "The dragons would incinerate us before we flew even a meter."

Dean glanced over, already reloading. The creepy half decaying thing had reached the porch and was painfully dragging itself up the steps, leaving a trail of black sludge as it grinned a black cavernous mouth at him through the broken window. "Balthazar, get Cas down to the panic room. Might hold them off 'till we figure something out."

Cas whirled on him, eyes flashing. "Dean Winchester if you think I'm going to simply  _cower_  like some frightened cupid whilst you battle those… _things,_ then you are sorely mistaken."

Dean fired outside again, jaw clenched. "This isn't open for debate, Cas. They're here for you and I'm not gonna make it easy for them."

"Um, hello." Bobby interrupted angrily, reloading his own shotgun, half leaning out the study window to shoot. "Kinda in the middle of something! You two lovebirds can argue later."

Dean glared over. "We're not  _lovebi-"_

The door splintered as the monstrous hound rammed it again, filling the living room with the smell of singed fur and sulfur. With a happy growl, it pushed its huge head through the ruined wood, burning eyes blackening the wood as it peered inside.

Fenrir was there, huge jaws clamping down on its blackened muzzle, the Nordic God's growling loud enough to rival even the monster's. With a yelp, the hound pulled back, dragging the wolf with it onto the porch.

There was the sound of shattering glass from upstairs, followed by a wet thud. Something skittered along the wooden floor above them, and Bobby groaned, looking up at the ceiling. "How many times are these bastards gonna ruin my goddamn house?"

Dean pulled away from the window and caught a glimpse of something white with black leathery wings on the stairs. It hissed at him, and the hunter ducked with a yelp as it lurched towards him. A gun boomed near his ear and the creature fell back in a spray of blood, disappearing. Sam stood beside him, eyes wide but stance firm as he leveled his shotgun at the stairs.

Dean breathed out shakily, clapping a hand thankfully on his brother's arm. "Thanks Sammy."

A shower of plaster rained down on the two of them as the creature thrashed upstairs, screeching angrily. Balthazar shouted, backing up from the kitchen as another monster materialized there; the angel slashing out with his blade.

A tall skeletal Gollum-like thing shuffled through the doorway towards them, long thin arms reaching out and dead black eyes glittering. Balthazar slashed at the transparent skin, eyes wide as flumes of dust leaked from the wounds. The thing didn't slow down, continuing it's shuffling advance, and Balthazar moved forward to push it away.

"Don't let them touch you!" Gabriel suddenly yelled, still standing by the window, hands pressed against his head. His forehead shone with sweat, his eyes squeezed shut as he continued his battle of wills against the creatures outside. "They're part horseman!"

With a girly yelp, Balthazar lunged to the side at the last minute, grabbing the chair Dean had vacated only minutes ago. Thrust in front of him like a lion tamer at a circus, he pushed the creature away from him with the chair. Cas hurried over, keeping his distance but forcing the creature back further with more slices of his blade.

Fenrir was grappling with the huge hound outside. Barking and snarling, the two hulking creatures rolled and snapped around the yard; fur flying. The hound was snorting flames as it dug long fangs into the Nordic God's shoulder and Fenrir howled, twisting and turning to sink his own into one meaty leg. The flames from the hound scorched the wolf's fur, but Fenrir ignored the pain, slamming himself more fully against the larger beast.

With an enraged snarl, the hound jerked his head to the side; Fenrir's shoulder still in its maw. The sudden movement unbalanced the wolf and even though Fenrir struggled, he was slammed to the ground. The hound bore down on him, forepaws pinning him as it released his shoulder. Blood streamed down the wolf's face into his eyes, blinding the God and he snapped wildly, struggling to protect his throat from the lunging monster.

Cursing, Bobby fired a few rounds at the hound's black-red hide, but the thing didn't even react.

Gabriel gritted his teeth at the pained yelps coming from the yard. The archangel's fingers were a bloodless white where they were pressed against his head. " _Someone get that monster off my puppy_!" he bellowed.

Fenrir's strength was failing. Faced against a creature more powerful than him, his legs kicked weakly as the hound managed to finally burrow its fangs deep in the black wolf's neck. It growled happily, shaking its head side to side as it tore through fur and muscle. Eve was clapping her hands from her spot on the sidelines, smiling widely as she watched the fight.

"Good boy!" she crooned. "You show that silly mangy wolf just what you can do.  _Eat him._ "

Bobby looked helplessly over at the others. Dean and Sam were still firing at the thing flapping on the stairs; Cas and Balthazar fending off the Gollum in the kitchen.

"He's gonna die if we don't do something."

Gabriel grimaced over at him, blood beginning to dribble from his nose from the effort of holding the dragons away. In his weakened condition it was a miracle he had been able to stop them in the first place. "I'm open to suggestions!"

The house suddenly shook, knocking the group to the floor. Orange flames lit the room up from outside, and the advancing creatures shrieked in alarm, disappearing. Dean blinked in confusion, struggling back to his feet as he shuffled back towards the window.

"What the hell-"

The monsters that had attacked the house were gathered around their Mother, clinging to her legs as they glared accusingly towards the house. Even the large hound had left savaging Fenrir, and stood a little distance away, growling uncertainly. The black spines along its spine stiffened, and it snorted smoke; irritated that it's play had been interrupted.

Eve crossed her arms, scowling. "Well that sure killed the mood," she huffed. "Was that necessary?"

Crowley stood over Fenrir's bleeding form, flames dying in his outstretched palm. Fenrir raised his head weakly, chest shuddering with the effort of dragging air into his ravaged lungs, and the demon nodded tersely down to him. With a relieved sigh, the wolf dropped his head back down to the earth, eyes flickering shut.

Crowley squared his shoulders, facing Eve and her monstrous children.

"That's enough," the demon said lowly. "Keep your little  _freaks_  away from this house."

Bobby grinned, hurrying away from the window towards the door, stepping over the splintered carnage outside. "God _damn_  I could kiss him."

Balthazar made a face as the rest of them hurried behind. "Now there's a picture I didn't want in my head. Actually, please do. Maybe it'll scare the monsters off."

The group was greeted by angry hisses as they spilled out onto the porch. The monsters glared and spat their displeasure from the safety of their mother, and Dean kept his gun trained on them. If anyone noticed how the hunter kept shifting in front of Castiel despite the angel's protests, no-one said anything.

Crowley stayed where he was; eyes hard and jaw set. Eve sighed, shooing her creations away from her legs. She started forward, hips swaying as she approached the demon, smiling.

"You want to take away my babies play time? But they were getting along so  _well._ "

Gabriel pushed his way through the group, pausing as he noticed Fenrir. Bobby placed a calming hand on the archangel's arm, shaking his head slightly.

"Easy," he murmured out the side of his mouth. "Keep an eye on those dragons."

Eve paused a few feet from the demon, cocking one hip. "So. This is the crack team I've been hearing so much about." She glanced over at the others on the porch. A red glow flared in her eyes as she looked over the angels. "And you must be Castiel. My my."

Dean stiffened, eyes flashing as he took a step forward, shielding the angel from view. "And you must be Eve. Skank of all monsters."

Eve laughed then, and the hound behind her whimpered. "Oh I like  _you._ Seems almost a shame to let my babies eat you." She studied Dean then, and he felt his skin crawl under the scrutiny. "Maybe I'll make something from you. Can't let  _those_ lips go to waste, now can I?"

There was a warning crackle, and a ball of flame burst into life in Crowley's hand. "No. He promised no-one would get hurt," the demon growled. "So your monsters can't touch  _any_  of them."

Eve sighed, rolling her eyes. "Did he now? Well far be it for us to disobey the Dark Prince, my little Judas."

The group on the porch all gaped at that.

"What…what is she talking about?" Sam asked nervously.

Gabriel's shoulders slumped. "Should've guessed. Once a demon, always a demon."

Bobby's face was livid, shotgun shaking in his hand as he tried to storm forward. Sam and Balthazar managed to grab him, hauling him back into their midst as the old hunter raged. "Crowley you two-timing bastard!" he bellowed. "You let them in?"

There was a minute flinch as the demon turned around. "Duh love,  _demon_." But the demon's usual sarcasm was absent, something pained in his eyes as he looked at them all. "I'm sorry darlings, but I have to think of the bigger picture here. With  _her_ onboard…" He jerked his thumb towards an amused looking Eve. "We don't have a chance."

Gabriel took an aggressive step forward, nose still bleeding slightly. "We have a deal. You can't weasel your way out of it, I made sure of that."

"Who says I am?" Crowley challenged. "We made a deal to help each other. You protect me, I protect you. Well that's what I'm bloody well doing, believe it or not."

Dean's attempt to keep Cas behind him finally failed, and the angel pushed him aside to glower at the demon. "I fail to see how letting them in to  _kill us_  is helpful."

Crowley looked at him sadly. "I'm sorry Clarence," he said quietly. "But all they want is  _you._  No-one else has to get hurt if you just go peacefully."

Gabriel looked thunderous. Sam hooked his fingers around the archangel's arm, keeping him on the porch as Gabriel tried to rush down the steps. "You little  _snake._ " He spat. "You'd just hand him over to the devil? After what he did to me?"

Crowley winced. "It's better than dying. Which is what we'd all certainly be doing otherwise. Eventually. This can't be stopped kiddies, I can see that now. Just….give them what they want."

Eve waved her hand. "Hush now kids, Mommy is bored now." She looked over at Crowley, a regretful dark shape in the dim evening light. "You've served your purpose, and I know some old friends are just  _dying_ to meet you. Off you go little one."

Crowley disappeared as she clicked her fingers, and Eve sniffed delicately. "Ugh. Demons. So uncouth."

She stepped forward again, placing one dainty foot on Fenrir's heaving ribcage. "This mangy mutt yours?" With a grin, she pressed down, forcing a pained grunt from the wolf, and causing Gabriel to lurch forward again, nearly dragging Sam with him.

It was Cas who stopped him, a firm hand pushing his brother back as the angel took a step forward down the steps.

"It's me you're here for," he said icily. "Leave them be."

Eve smiled, her white teeth pointed. "Hello honey. I have to say, you're not quite what I was expecting."

Dean was pretty damn proud when Cas just shrugged at the Mother. "I am glad to disappoint."

Ok so maybe they'd work on snarky retorts next, but that was a good start.

Eve arched an eyebrow, crossing her arms. "Your Daddy was right. Playing in the mud with the monkeys has rubbed off on you. You better come home baby boy, or you'll forget who your  _real_  family are."

If Dean had been proud before, he wasn't entirely sure what he was feeling now as Cas gestured rudely at her.

"I am home," the angel growled. "And  _this_ is my real family."

Eve frowned. "All right handsome, you want to play it that way? So be it."

She whistled, and the hound approached Fenrir again, mouth slavering. Eve rested her hand on its back, fingers playing with the black spines that shivered under her touch. "So here's the deal. You come with me, or I murder everyone here. Starting with this pathetic waste of fur."

Cas paused uncertainly at that, and Dean grabbed his arm. "We'll fight her Cas," he promised grimly. "That bitch isn't gonna get you."

He wasn't prepared when Cas turned to him, eyes sad.

"Dean, we can't possibly fight her," the angel murmured. "If it will prevent more bloodshed, perhaps I should…go."

"Over my dead body!" Gabriel spat, glaring hatefully at the bemused Mother of monsters on the yard. "Bitch, I am a  _motherfucking archangel_  and I will lay waste to  _everything_ if you take one more step."

Eve looked at him bemused. "Feisty. Lucifer told me you would be. He also told me how  _loud_ you can be," she smirked, shaking her head condescendingly. "But it's all a show really isn't it? Do your little friends know what  _really_  happened? How you begged and pleaded for Lucifer to just  _do_ it?" Eve's eyes were glowing red as she pressed down harder with her foot. Fenrir's paws scrabbled weakly in the dirt as he gasped with pain.

"Don't you pull that righteous bullshit with me boy," she snarled. "I know what you  _really_  are. Weak. Pathetic."

Gabriel had frozen, eyes wide and panicked as her words transported him back somewhere dark in his mind. Sam still had a hold of him, and coaxed the frozen archangel away from the steps, into the protective circle of the younger Winchester's arms.

"And we know what you are," Sam said fiercely, turning his gaze towards Eve. "We're not giving you Cas. You want him, come get him."

Eve rubbed her hands together gleefully, stepping away from Fenrir. "Awesome. I was hoping you'd say that." Turning towards the hound at her side, she gestured in front of her. "Baby, if you please."

Snorting flames, the hound advanced.

Cursing, Dean fired at it one handed, dragging Cas behind him with the other. "Stay behind me!"

Fenrir raised his head to snap at the hound as it passed; back legs kicking up clouds of dust as he tried to lunge after it, but the hound ignored him. It started up the steps, flaming eyes wild.

A deep ominous rumble made the wooden slats beneath their feet shake, and the world erupted into blinding white in a deafening crackle. The hound was howling, and Dean blinked furiously, trying to clear the spots swimming in front of his eyes.

As the darkness of night began to slide back into place, the group was startled to find a woman standing at the bottom of the porch steps. The hound had retreated back to Eve, body crouched low to the ground and snuffling unhappily. Eve looked surprised, the dragons behind her shifting nervously.

"What's this?" the Mother demanded. "Who are you?"

The woman's voice was clipped as she spoke, words carefully controlled. "I am insulted that you so easily forgot me, Eve."

She was dressed in a sharp black suit, each crease perfectly ironed. She wasn't beautiful, but…handsome looking, with sharp angular features. Her black hair was pulled back in a slick bun, no makeup on her ebony skin. She stood like a soldier, hands clasped behind her back and feet spread wide. Her brown eyes were flinty, and it was then Dean noticed the other suit-clad figures lining the porch beside them and along the fence.

Shit.

Eve seemed to recognize her at the same time Dean did. "Raphael, you grumpy old bitch. How nice of you to drop in."

Raphael's stance didn't waver. "Leave."

Eve sighed. "How to put this? How about no. Or maybe hell no. Rather appropriate wouldn't you say?"

Raphael's face was expressionless. "So be it."

Moving from her stiff soldier posture, the archangel raised a hand, snapping her fingers. The white Gollom thing that had attacked Balthazar in the kitchen gurgled, it's body contorting impossibly as it writhed in an invisible grip.

Eve whirled back towards Raphael, nails elongating as her eyes lit with a furious red fire. Her voice was deeper as she spoke, more demonic and revealing of what she really was. " _Don't you touch my children."_

Raphael didn't flinch. "You will leave, or I will destroy your abominations."

Eve was shaking with rage, but looked uncertain as she glanced between Raphael and her writhing offspring. Raphael tightened her fingers, and the creature screamed.

"Do not test me, Whore of Purgatory," she said grimly. "I have little patience."

Eve seemed to calm herself, eyes dimming. She held her hands up in surrender. "Alright. You win this round. But remember Raphael…" She pointed at the impassive archangel. "Next time, you won't catch me off guard." With a glower, Eve clapped her hands. The four dragons behind her swept forward, each placing a hand on one of the monsters, and all disappeared in a flurry of flapping.

Dean breathed out a sigh of relief. "Man I never thought I'd be happy to see that many angels."

Cas moved down the steps cautiously. "Raphael. Your timing was…most fortunate. Thank you."

Raphael didn't look any less sterner as she turned, and Dean suddenly remembered that,  _oh yeah_ ,  _she killed Cas_   _once_.

"Do not mistake my intervention as forgiveness for your crimes, Castiel," Raphael replied scathingly. "I was not willing to let Eve return you to Lucifer. I am here to destroy you."


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cursing, some blood, family issues like woah.

The sight of his sister had his wings trembling and knees shaking, and vainly Castiel tried to calm himself. Raphael's ivory wings were as pristine as ever, held as stiffly as she stood, though invisible to the humans on the porch. Self-consciously, Castiel tucked his own more firmly against his back, remembering the feeling of his feathers sizzling to nothing the last time he had encountered her.

Gabriel had pulled himself together after Eve's departure, and stepped forward aggressively, pushing Castiel none-too gently behind him.

"And what crime would that be?" he demanded, speckled brown wings flaring to shield Castiel from view. "Trying to stop the apocalypse that _you_  wanted?"

Raphael's expression didn't change. "Gabriel. How fitting that you are here, cowering amongst the rest of heaven's traitors."

Balthazar was unsuccessfully trying to duck down behind Sam; dusky auburn wings too large to hide completely, and Raphael glared over at him. The angel waved his fingers meekly.

Steeling his resolve, Castiel pushed through the bristling feathers in front of him, moving around to Gabriel's side. "There is no need for violence Raphael. We have a common enemy."

The angels lining the property shifted uneasily as Raphael laughed, the sound bitter and forced. "No violence? If Lucifer was to gain access to your grace, the host would be powerless to prevent his march on heaven. If I must destroy  _you_ to prevent Lucifer from succeeding in that, then I will do so."

Gabriel was snarling as he swept down the steps, wings flared and chest thrust out in challenge. "I'd like to see you try." His face was only inches from Raphael's, his slightly shorter stature forcing him to look up at his impassionate sister. "I might not have been around for the first time, but there is NO way you're killing our baby brother again."

"Step down, Gabriel," Raphael warned lowly, ivory wings finally twitching slightly. "He is your seraph no longer. His very  _existence_  is blasphemy. You would sacrifice the world for one lowly, irresponsible angel?"

"I'd sacrifice a lot more than that." Gabriel snapped back, hands balled into fists at his sides. "This isn't Castiel's fault. This is  _yours._ You wanted the devil out didn't you? You  _wanted_ this to happen!"

Raphael snorted, turning away from Gabriel to look at the humans lining the porch. "The wound of humanity needs to be flushed in order for the world to truly heal."

"You short sighted… _bitch_!" Gabriel thundered, eyes wild. Castiel winced as an irate wind swept across the yard, tugging at his coat and hair as Gabriel's anger raged. "You couldn't control Lucifer! No-one ever could! And now he's running wild and you want to kill the only angel who was brave enough to try and  _stop him?_ "

Lightning cracked across the sky as Raphael whirled on him, shoulders a rigid line as her wings puffed. "How dare you speak to me thus!" Dark clouds were beginning to amass above them as the two archangels glared each other down. Castiel felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise as electricity crackled around them.

"Where were  _you_ Gabriel?" Raphael spat. "Cowering amongst these…these… _monkeys_  whilst heaven lay in pieces!"

"It wasn't broken!" Gabriel roared. " _You_ made it that way!"

Thunder rumbled as Raphael's wings spread wider, fury etched into the lines of her face as the sky darkened further. "Something had to be done! So  _I_  shouldered the burden, and I will  _continue_  to do so, no matter the cost."

Gabriel seemed so much smaller than her in the face of her wrath, but didn't back down. "I won't do it again!" he said fiercely. "You hear me? I won't watch my family kill each other! I did it once, and just let it happen. Never again, Raphael!"

They were going to fight. Two archangels were about to battle on Bobby Singer's front lawn, and it would be colossal. Humans for miles around would feel the earth tremble, and lightning would tear apart the skies.

Castiel couldn't let that happen.

"Cas!"

He heard Dean's worried shout, but couldn't afford to pause. Pushing forward, he snapped his wings wide and flew right into the eye of the storm.

In hindsight, perhaps situating himself directly between two of heaven's most powerful angels was not the best idea. He persisted however, pushing the two apart as he wedged his wings between them.

"ENOUGH!" his voice sounded unlike him, deep and commanding, and for a moment he was startled. It had the same effect on his siblings, and they paused, glancing at the seraph between them. Relieved he had at least diverted a showdown for a moment, Castiel pushed harder, forcing them both back a step. "Cease this arguing. Please, brother…sister…we are not enemies. We are family."

Raphael slapped his wing away from her, eyes still hard and angry. "Once perhaps. But those times are long gone Castiel. This is  _war_. There is no room for sentimental feelings."

"And whose fault is it that we're in this stupid war?" Gabriel challenged, unwilling to stand down as he waved his arms around. "You let the cat out of the bag, Raphael. Congratulations! You've won yourself a frigging apocalypse! Enjoy your destruction and genocide, no refunds!"

"Cease your incessant whining Gabriel!" Raphael snapped irritably. "I was protecting everything we hold dear; heaven, our siblings. Something  _you_ clearly did not wish to do."

"But what of our other siblings?" Castiel asked quietly, drawing both the angels' attention back to him. "What of God's greatest and most treasured possession? What of them?"

Raphael grimaced with disgust. "They never deserved such a title. Humans are like locusts; they feed and destroy, and  _breed_. They squander the gifts given to them and dare ask for  _more_. There is nothing worth saving among them." Her wings were fluttering agitatedly and the black suited angels readied their blades. "God is dead, Castiel. If He were not, would He not save them? This is what must be  _done._ "

Castiel shook his head, wings still keeping the two apart. "I do not believe that," he said lowly. "I do not believe our Father is dead, and I certainly do not believe that there is nothing worth saving in mankind."

The look his sister gave him made his courage waver for a moment, wings quaking. "Castiel. You do not know how  _weary_  I am of hearing your name, seraph. Little Castiel, the curious. The questioning. The  _rebel_. Much like your Sire."

Gabriel lunged forward again, only stopped by Castiel's hand on his chest. "I'm pretty weary of your  _face_  you gigantic bag of  _dicks_."

Balthazar chortled from his hiding spot behind Sam. "Good one. Disturbing imagery, but straight to the point."

"Cease your ridiculous jokes!" Raphael erupted, pointing accusingly at Gabriel. "He is not  _yours_  Gabriel! Stop defending the seraph as if he is." Castiel was jostled as the two strained against him, trying to murder one another with their eyes. "Of all of us it was  _you._  He was given to  _you_. I question Michael's sensibilities on that occasion. _"_

"Oh I see where this is going," Gabriel smirked, crossing his arms, even as his wings continued their rude gesturing. "You're  _jealous._ Well its a few  _millennia_  late for that don't you think?"

"Don't be absurd," Raphael growled. "Why would I be jealous of  _you_? You were never serious, constantly shirking your duties to run off with  _him_." She glowered over at Castiel, and his grace fluttered fearfully in his chest; beating against his ribs with panicked wings. "You were not an archangel. You were a glorified  _babysitter._ "

If possible, Gabriel's feathers puffed even more. "And damn proud of it! And for your information, that's  _Mister_ babysitter to you."

The situation was beginning to escalate again, and Castiel gritted his teeth, saying a quick prayer that if he was to be smote again, it would be quick.

"Raphael," he addressed the furious archangel at his side. "I know that you only have heaven's best interests at heart. And I…regret that our last encounter was not…amiable."

Unable to keep on the sidelines any longer, Dean stomped down a step before Sam grabbed him. "Amiable?" he yelled incredulously, ignoring his brother. "She blew you up Cas! And you know what? I wanna know  _why_."

Raphael wings jerked as she looked over at the human, disbelieving the human had the gall to call her out. " _Why_? Why I destroyed him? Because of  _you,_ " she snarled. "Dean Winchester. The righteous man who is so far from righteous it is laughable. You are nothing but a broken husk of a man, weak, pathetic and easily tempted.  _You_  had a simple task. Just say yes. And yet, even  _that_  was too strenuous for you."

She turned back to Castiel, eyes no less flinty. "And  _you,_ " she ground. "An angel, and you chose a  _human_  over your own family. It was the worst betrayal."

Gabriel butted back in, and Castiel's wings flapped as he struggled to push his brother back. "You tried to take away the very thing God gave to them!" Gabriel yelled. "Free will! Castiel was trying to  _protect_  that gift, and save the world to boot. You had no right to attack him. He didn't deserve to  _die!_ "

Raphael snarled back at him, face twisted. "I had every right! He is a traitor!"

" _As are you._ "

Both archangels paused at that, casting incredulous glances over towards Fenrir. The wolf had managed to struggle into a sitting position, panting harshly as blood dripped slowly from his neck to the dirt. It formed a pool at his paws, glistening a deep black in the dim light.

Raphael bared her teeth at him. "This does not concern you, pagan."

Fenrir managed to get to his paws, legs shaking with the effort, head drooping low to the ground. Gabriel made an abortive step forward, torn between running to the wolf and staying near Castiel.

" _It concerns us all,"_  Fenrir said quietly, eyes clouded with pain. " _Lucifer did not escape hell alone. Perhaps Castiel did betray heaven. But the heaven he betrayed was corrupted and twisted; much like Lucifer is. You allowed it to become thus. Do you deny that you allowed Lucifer to escape? That you allowed the massacre of humans and angels alike, which goes against the very principles of heaven, lay down by God Himself?"_

Raphael spluttered for a moment. "What I did was for the greater  _good_. I had no intention of-"

" _Answer me, feathered one. Did you allow it?"_  Despite his injuries, Fenrir was still a Norse God, and with some effort he raised his head, eyes intense and demanding.

Raphael closed her mouth with a click, and the angels shifted nervously. "Yes."

Fenrir dropped his head low again. " _Then you are as much a traitor as Castiel. I understand your hatred of humans, many of the lower Gods share it. However, if you wish to save heaven from Lucifer's wrath, then you need them. And you need Castiel. If you wish to continue with your ridiculous vendetta against him, then you will also contend with the rest of us."_ The wolf glanced towards Gabriel, who was watching him worriedly. _"What are you willing to sacrifice? Your life? Gabriel's? It is a high cost to pay for personal vengeance."_

Everyone held their breath as Raphael fumed. Her wings twitched with suppressed anger, and her angelic lackeys shifted from foot to foot. Finally the archangel's wings slumped in defeat.

"No," she ground, eyes lowering from Fenrir's. "There has been enough death."

Fenrir sank back down to the ground, flopping onto his side exhaustedly. " _Good. Now perhaps you can converse like the civilized creatures I was led to believe you are."_

Raphael glanced back up. "Perhaps. Castiel, I would speak with you.  _Alone._ "

Castiel froze at that, Gabriel hissing between clenched teeth as feet shuffled loudly on the porch.

"Oh no you don't!" Dean struggled to pull himself away from Sam again, face angry. "You're not getting him alone just so you can blow him up again!"

Raphael looked over at him sullenly. "I will not. You have my word." She nodded at Gabriel, who was still glaring at her hatefully. "I give you my vow Gabriel, that I will not harm the seraph."

Gabriel opened his mouth to protest, but Castiel stopped him, resting a hand on his brother's arm.

"It's alright Gabriel. I will be fine."

Gabriel frowned. "Alright, but I swear on Dad that if you hurt him Raphael…" the archangel pointed his finger at her aggressively, "I will  _kill you_."

Raphael merely nodded, turning and walking away from the house; out into the junkyard. Cautiously, Castiel followed.

 

* * *

 

The dark clouds that had amassed above Raphael had dissipated, though night had now fallen. Castiel followed the white wings in front of him, visible in the gloom. Eventually the archangel slowed, gesturing beside her, and Castiel joined her side. She walked with her hands clasped behind her back, past the old cars towards the more open fields beyond. Unsure with how to proceed, Castiel found himself fidgeting restlessly; fingers toying with his sleeves and wings spastically twitching.

Finally, as they reached the end of the junkyard, Raphael sighed.

"Castiel, must you twitch so? It is…distracting."

He tried in vain to calm his nervous wings, mouth dry. "My apologies. I am simply..." he swallowed, finding himself surprisingly warm. "Nervous."

Raphael glanced at him briefly, before turning her attention back to the path. "How human of you. Yet I suppose it is not so surprising. Our last encounter was…explosive."

Castiel winced.  _Explosive indeed._  He could still remember how beautiful she had been; a descending archangel filled with holy wrath. It had been incredible, up until he realized that all her anger was centered on  _him._  It was not… _enjoyable_ after that.

As if sensing his thoughts, Raphael sighed heavily, casting her eyes to the dark night sky. "I admit that perhaps I was…rash. I would apologize, but I do not regret my actions. Regret is not a luxury I can afford myself."

It was probably the closest Raphael would ever get to an apology, and Castiel dipped his head in acknowledgement, stunned into silence. They continued, grass trailing against their legs as they walked further from the house; crickets chirping at them as they passed.

Castiel shoved his hands into the deep pockets of his trench coat, trying to ignore the heavy weight of dread in his stomach. "Killing me will not stop Lucifer," he said quietly. "Now that he has forged an alliance with Eve, she will provide him with an army powerful enough to attack heaven. My involvement is not pivotal to that."

Raphael nodded absently. "I know."

He felt a flare of irritation at that, and his wings jerked. "You know? Then do you also know what he did to Gabriel? Lucifer is not the brother we remember. He seeks to create fledglings by  _force_. What will stop him from enslaving all of heaven's angels in order to do so?"

Raphael was still silent, and Castiel felt his wings flare with annoyance. If she had known, why had she not prevented it? "It will be a world void of life, Raphael. Heaven full of monsters. What then? Will Lucifer move onto other worlds? Other realms?  _He must be stopped_."

She still said nothing, and Castiel shook his head angrily. "Killing me may give you satisfaction, but it will not stop him."

Raphael stilled then, wings shifting and Castiel felt a brief flare of worry he had pushed the archangel too far. But no lightning was forthcoming to rip him asunder. Instead Raphael turned to him, something unnamable in her eyes.

"It gave me no satisfaction, Castiel," she murmured. "Despite what you might think of me, it  _never_ gave me satisfaction to slay any angel. Least of all you."

Castiel said nothing, unsure what she was trying say and Raphael glanced back up at the sky; the stars reflected in her brown eyes. "I remember, Castiel. I remember what it was like, long before any of you. Back when we archangels were young and Father walked among us freely."

The forest suddenly seemed so very still, even the crickets quieting as Raphael spoke. Castiel found himself hardly daring to breathe in case it broke the strange spell that seemed to have fallen around them. Raphael's wings were still as she studied the sky, face softer in the dim light.

"Lucifer and I were very close. We shared everything. Many nights were spent underneath the stars, discussing what the world would be like and all the creatures that would one day inhabit it." Something that could have been a slight smile tugged insistently at the corner of her mouth. "And Gabriel, sweet young Gabriel. He was the youngest, a tiny little thing with a mouth that never ceased talking and these  _wings-_ " She faltered at that, blinking slowly. "They were never still or smooth. Father would laugh and call him a porcupine, though we did not know what one was at the time. Lucifer and I would sit for hours trying to groom him and he'd always be running off, getting into trouble."

Castiel felt like he needed to say something. "What…what happened then?"

Raphael looked back over at him, eyes impossibly sad. "Like all things, we grew up."

The archangel moved further into the trees and Castiel followed dumbly, watching as Raphael trailed a hand against the rough bark of a tree as she passed. "Lucifer grew distant from us. From me. He and Michael…" Raphael shook her head ruefully, fingers plucking a leaf from a plant. "Lucifer a _dored_ him. He loved him above all else, perhaps even God. You see Castiel…"

She turned to him then, the leaf pinched between her forefinger and thumb. "It was not God who demanded we love the humans. It was Michael. Lucifer was furious."

She crumbled the leaf in her hand, eyes distant. "It was…difficult. I loved Lucifer so utterly, yet he could only see Michael." Dropping the crumpled leaf to the ground, she moved away, Castiel following helplessly after.

"When Father decreed that we were to bear fledglings, for a moment I felt complete," Raphael said quietly. "You may not think me capable of it Castiel, but the moment I first held a fledgling of my very own, I had a purpose again. I  _loved_. It did not matter if my brothers no longer spoke to me, nor shared stories beneath a starry sky, or if they loved one another the way they could never love me, because I had something of my  _very own_. It was not Father's, or Lucifer's, it was  _mine_."

She turned back to him, and to his surprise, her wings arched towards him, just briefly touching the edge of his. Castiel kept perfectly still, unsure if he should offer the same touch.

"I remember the day you were born," her voice was soft, hushed in the stillness. "I remember Gabriel's look of terror that he had been given such a precious burden to raise, and in that moment, I knew what jealousy was." Her eyes found his, and Castiel didn't dare look away. This was important, monumental even; his sister had never spoken to him like this, and he didn't want to ruin it now.

"I wanted you, Castiel. You should have been  _mine_. I could see it, in every crinkle of your eyes, every laugh and every flutter of your tiny shadow wings. You were Lucifer, and I was denied him once again."

She shook her head sadly. "I couldn't bear it. It was easier to resent you then watch what I could never have. Perhaps it is a poor excuse, but it is all I have."

His mouth was dry. He tried to form words but found he had none.

Raphael glanced away, wings one again folding back primly against her back. "When the fighting started, all of us suffered. The brothers I had once loved above all else, were tearing each other apart in front of me, and there was nothing I could do. When Lucifer fell…" Her eyes fluttered shut, and Raphael shook her head slightly. "I do not believe I can even put into words what I felt. There was a part of me that wished I had fallen with him, yet I was still pious. I believed that it had to be done, that Lucifer was  _wrong_ , and mankind was worth fighting for. But, as the years passed…I saw the truth."

Her eyes opened again, steely again. "The humans say that God does not make mistakes, but he  _does_  Castiel. His greatest mistake was  _them_. They drove Lucifer to madness, and they squander everything given to them. They are murderers, rapists, child molesters….humanity is nothing but a cesspit of sin. I thought that if only the world could start over…begin anew…"

Castiel shook himself out of his stupor. "Mankind did not drive Lucifer to madness. He did so to himself, and no-one else is to blame."

Raphael studied him seriously. "Perhaps. Despite that however, I orchestrated events that would enable Lucifer to leave his prison. It was not only Lucifer I was thinking of, but of Michael as well. He…" she trailed off, shaking her head curtly. "It hardly matters now. You believed that by betraying heaven you were merely attempting to do what you thought was right. Then I also confess to that sin. That pagan wolf of yours was correct, if I label you a traitor, than I am accusing the same of myself."

Maybe he was dreaming. In all of time, Raphael had never shown as much emotion as she was now, nor spoken so honestly. He couldn't shake the feeling that perhaps Raphael was as tired of it all as the rest of them were.

"Surely you can see that mankind is also worth saving," Castiel managed. "They are not perfect, but they are capable of such  _good_ , Raphael. When I look at them…" He smiled slightly, shrugging helplessly. "I see God."

Raphael studied the ground, wings slumped. He found it unsettling, so unlike the stoic stern image of his sister he had always known. "I do not see it," she confessed. "To me they are ants, tiny and meaningless, yet intensely irritating."

Castiel sighed into the night air. "It is hard to see the true purpose of a small ant when you are standing so far above it. To you, it appears as an insignificant speck. From such a distance, you cannot see how important that single ant is to its colony; how hard it struggles to traverse what seems like mere millimeters for us." Castiel paused, thinking immediately of Dean. "You cannot see how truly beautiful and  _important_ it is."

Raphael frowned, raising her head. "You insinuate that in order to fully understand them, we must join them on their plain of existence. We must…join the ants in their mounds of dirt."

Castiel couldn't help it, he chuckled. "Yes. It is called empathy, Raphael. It is one of humanities greatest triumphs."

Raphael snorted delicately. "I see Gabriel has been teaching you well."

"It was not Gabriel who taught me that. It was the Winchesters." At his sister's look of disbelief, Castiel felt himself soften towards her. "We are  _all_  children of God. Even them."

Raphael's wings were shifting restlessly, betraying her inner turmoil and uncertainty.

"Lucifer has no right to decide their fate and neither do you," Castiel continued. "Sister, if we are to stop him then we must stand united. Angels and humans alike."

Raphael sighed. She was looking at him again, and slowly took a step towards him. Uncertainly, Castiel stood still as she approached, raising her hand. After several moments of wrestling with something inside herself, the archangel rested her hand on his shoulder, fingers squeezing briefly.

"I do believe you have grown up, Castiel," Raphael murmured. "You are…wiser than I remember. I am…" She swallowed. "… _glad_  you are with us again, as improbable as it seems."

Castiel's wings had stopped shaking with nerves, and now shivered with delight before he could stop them. "You say God is dead. Yet here I stand."

Raphael actually smiled at him then. It was so sudden and unlike her that Castiel found himself frozen to the spot, disbelieving he had really seen it.

"Indeed you do. Your faith has always been strong, little seraph. Even when the strongest of us have fallen prey to uncertainty. Gabriel certainly believes in you, as does your…questionable comrades."

She paused, seemingly struggling with the concept of being…pleasant.

"I…Lucifer must be stopped. Though I still care very little for humanity, heaven must be protected. He seeks to create angels of his own using you. I cannot…I cannot destroy you. Therefore, if I am to stop Lucifer, I must also protect you. If to do so I must…c _avort_ with the monkeys, then I suppose I must. I will help you, brother."

Castiel blinked in surprise. "Thank you, sister." And he truly meant it.

Raphael smiled again, and Castiel suddenly could hear Gabriel's voice in his head.  _"_ _She was like a_ _hawk._ _If Lucifer got within ten paces of you, she was there. He never tried anything."_

Was it true? All this time he had thought that she had hated him because he was different. To find out the opposite…

"Did…you always know. That Lucifer…and I…" he found his tongue uncooperative, the words forced out of him.

Raphael dipped her head slightly. "No-one knew for certain until the civil war, but I suspected long before that. Gabriel was…always losing you, but you were never truly  _lost_. I was always watching. I may have loved Lucifer, but I did not want his greed harming you. You were innocent."

 _Raphael._  Though he had never thought of it, she had always been there. Watching out for him. "You loved me."

Raphael paused, eyes flickering with doubt. "I…I still do, little brother. I believe that I simply…forgot what that word meant long ago. Much like Lucifer did."

There had been too many revelations this evening. Castiel felt winded, lost and confused. Sensing it, Raphael looked away, back towards the house.

"We should return. Gabriel will not wait for long."

Castiel nodded dumbly, mind still reeling. Raphael paused, looking back at him as if waiting for something. When he glanced back up at her he was startled to find she looked…scared.

"I…I believe it is a human custom to embrace after such…revelations," she remarked.

Castiel's eyes widened. "That is…not necessary."

Raphael's wings flapped once. "I find myself curious. Indulge me…if you please."

There was something almost hopeful in her voice, and Castiel took a cautious step forward.

He had never hugged Raphael. In all his memory, Raphael had never shown any inclination for such things. But as she slid her arms around him, wings curving around him, he suddenly understood why God had chosen her as the angel of love. Her very  _being_  thrummed with it, a powerful hum just beneath her skin, and it called to him as he buried his face in her neck. His grace soared, no longer fluttering weakly but flying high and gleeful. Yet another piece of something that had long ago been shattered, clicked back into place in his chest.

"Oh Castiel. Little seraph," Raphael murmured, cheek pressed against his hair and sounding as stunned as he himself felt. "I…I never knew. I was lost…but now I am found."

He burrowed closer, wings shivering as he hugged the sister he thought had never loved him.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: ok take note: cursing, graphic sex,bottom!Dean, top!Cas, graphic torture, character whump.
> 
> There is graphic torture in this chapter because hey, this is Supernatural after all, and demons are twisted bastards. But I am a fan of h/c and can't stand suffering for long, if that helps at all lol

Dean was exhausted by the time he finally escaped the living room.

It was late; probably sometime in the early morning. Raphael and Cas had returned to the house, both intact thankfully, and the archangel had pulled Gabriel aside to converse in low tones. After a while, she disappeared, her lackeys going with her.

It had taken the whole group of them to help Fenrir inside. The wolf was unsteady on his paws, and wobbled dangerously. The God weighed practically a ton, but after what seemed like hours of pushing and leaning, they managed to get the wolf into the living room. He lay there now; his large head in Gabriel's lap as the archangel gently stroked the fur between his ears and down his cheeks murmuring to him in Norse. He had been unable to heal the wolf; the wounds inflicted by the unnatural creature somehow warping his power and preventing any healing. Fenrir would have to heal on his own, and the Nordic God was not best pleased.

He growled unhappily, pushing his nose further into Gabriel's belly as Sam carefully continued to wrap a length of sterile white gauze around the gaping gashes in the wolf's neck. His fingers pressed against a sore spot, and Fenrir let out a pained whimper. Sam clucked at him apologetically, running gentle fingers along the wolf's spine and rubbing between his shoulders.

"Just a bit more," he promised, moving the roll of gauze beneath the wolf's head and back up. Fenrir sighed, and Gabriel ruffled his ears fondly.

"C'mon you big furry baby," the archangel teased. "What happened to the big bad wolf image hmm?"

Fenrir nipped at Gabriel's stomach gently; shifting his back legs against Sam. " _Next time Father,_ _ **you**  _ _can battle the fire hound."_

That's how Dean had left them, rubbing his face tiredly as he descended down the basement stairs. The air was colder, and he shivered slightly, footsteps echoing against the walls as he reached the panic room.

There was an angel-sized lump on the bed; hidden from view underneath a familiar trench coat and an old blanket.

Dean shucked his shirt off, tossing it towards a chair. The blanketed figure mumbled as he sat down on the side of the bed, mattress dipping as he tried to pull his boots off. Cas's head slowly emerged from his warm cocoon, blinking blearily at the hunter; his hair sticking up in all directions. Dean chuckled, reaching out to touch the wild tendrils, smoothing them down.

"Figured I'd find you here."

Nodding absently, Cas shifted, lifting the edge of his blanket fortress in invitation. Kicking his remaining boot free and stripping down to his boxers, Dean climbed in alongside, pressing himself against the expanse of deliciously warm skin offered to him.

A lump dug into his ribs, and squirming, Dean reached down to extract it, pulling it up towards him. It was fabric, and for a moment Dean frowned at it contemplatively before recognizing the soft cotton.

"Uh…Cas?"

The angel had snuggled back down into his pillow, face hidden from view. "Mmph."

Dean arched an eyebrow, nudging the angel with his knee. "Sam was looking for this you know."

Cas turned his head to the side, opening one eye irritably. Sam's favorite worn blue hoody dangled from Dean's hand, and the angel stared at it.

"It was…soft," he finally managed, frowning at the article of clothing as if only noticing it for the first time.

Dean snorted, tossing the hoody towards his shirt. "Yeah well I've got a million of ratty old t-shirts you can have. Just ask ok?"

Cas was still frowning perplexedly in the direction the hoody had gone, as if he couldn't quite figure out how it got there, and Dean smiled, wriggling down to wrap his arms around the angel. Cas sighed happily at that, shifting around to fit himself more snugly against the hunter; face tucked into Dean's neck as their legs tangled together.

The panic room was quiet, peaceful, and Dean relaxed into the old mattress with a contented murmur. It was like this was their place now; their own little shelter away from the storm of the rest of the world.

Gently, he slid his fingers down Cas's arm. "You alright?" he asked quietly. "With Raphael and everything…"

Cas huffed, warm breath fanning against Dean's neck, and his stomach lurched. "Yes. It has been…odd, however."

"I bet."

The angel shifted against him again, and Dean bit his lip.  _Now's not the time_ , he berated his downstairs brain.

"I feel that…perhaps this was meant to happen," Cas murmured, pressing a brief kiss against his throat. "Lucifer roaming free I could do without but…I feel that some good is also coming from this."

Dean swallowed, rubbing his chin slowly against the soft hair tickling his jaw. "Glad you can see the silver lining I guess."

He felt Cas pull away slightly, looking up at him. "And you cannot?"

Dean shrugged helplessly, releasing the angel and rolling onto his back to stare up at the ceiling. The devil trap was still there; bold and black in the darkness. "I…dunno," he admitted. "We lost Jo, Ellen. And now this Eve…it feels like we're never gonna win."

Cas rose beside him, resting on his forearms as he watched the hunter with dark eyes. "Of course we will."

Dean smiled weakly, keeping his eyes on the ceiling. "Keep sayin' it Cas, and maybe I'll believe it."

The angel huffed. "Then I shall do so."

He leant forward, pressing his lips against Dean's jaw, and the hunter turned into it, pressing their lips together and muffling Cas's grunt of surprise. Stubble scraped against stubble, Dean aggressively forcing the angel's lips apart with his own and claiming the mouth behind as his. Cas let him; tongue coaxing him in and pulling Dean closer with desperate hands.

Dean pulled away then, touching Cas's face in the dark tentatively. "I can't...I can't save you, Cas," he whispered helplessly. The angel stilled, eyes wide and serious as he studied the hunter, and Dean swallowed heavily. "This is so big you know? The devil…Eve…hell, freaking a _ngels_ , and…I can't save you. Eve would have taken you. Raphael could have  _killed_ you and I…I couldn't do anything."

Warm hands slid along his sides; up over his ribs to touch his neck and face. "Dean, you have saved me in so many different ways already." Cas murmured, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. "We will survive this. Together."

It didn't dampen the helplessness he felt, but it made his heart pound harder and Dean acquiesced, relaxing back into Cas's arms and kissing him again.

"I like the sound of that," he murmured against the angel's lips, and Cas chuckled, bumping their noses together affectionately.

"As do I."

In his defense, Dean had every good intention to just go to sleep, no sexy times involved. He would have been perfectly happy to just fall asleep like that; tucked against Cas, warm and affectionate.

The angel however, had other ideas, and far be it from Dean to complain.

In fact he found himself incapable of doing anything but groaning shamelessly with his face pressed into the pillow as Cas practically _mounted_  him from behind. Which was so ridiculously hot it should be illegal. Maybe it was.

Dean's thighs trembled, Cas's hands keeping them pushed apart as the angel slid into him, setting a punishing pace that had the hunter gasping and pleading outloud. He felt like a bitch in heat as he ground his hips back impatiently, demanding more as he whimpered. Cas obliged him, leaning forward to press his chest along Dean's sweaty back, mouthing the skin of his neck. The slow burn of stubble made his blood run hotter, and Dean threw his head back, sucking in deep shuddering breaths as Cas nipped at him, running his teeth along the neck bared to him, just shy of biting.

The angel was relentless, bucking into him as those teasing teeth suddenly clenched down  _hard_ , marking Dean as claimed property. With a groan, his thighs gave way as Dean came in a slippery flash of heat; body slumping flat onto the mattress.

Cas followed him down, hips relentlessly driving into him as sure hands hauled his hips up and back, forcing Dean into another dry orgasm a few minutes later. He could only lie there and take it, chest heaving as the angel thrust forward one more time, emptying himself in Dean's twitching body with a curse muffled against the skin of his shoulder.

After they managed to clean up the worst of the mess and remember what breathing was, they lay together, Dean slumped across Cas's chest as the angel looked up at the ceiling. They were pressed against each other, groin to groin, leg to leg, but were too tired for it to be sexual. Dean nuzzled his face further into Cas's neck, enjoying the simple intimacy and veins thrumming happily with post-sex hormones.

"You're thinking," he mumbled. "You think loud."

Cas's chuckle vibrated beneath his cheek. "My apologies. I shall endeavor to think more quietly in future."

Dean sighed, shifting slightly. "What you thinking about?"

The angel was silent for a beat. "Crowley," he admitted quietly.

Dean raised his head then, frowning. "Well if that isn't a mood killer. What about the little bastard?"

Cas looked down at him, eyes worried in the dark. "I…am concerned. It is unlikely he will be welcomed back in to the demonic fold. He helped us, and such a deed will not go unpunished."

Dean grumbled to himself, settling his face back down into the safety of Cas's neck and closing his eyes. "So? He'll get what he deserves. He almost got us _killed_ , Cas. You should be hating his guts with the rest of us."

Cas's fingers were carding through his hair now, and Dean leant into the touch, sleep beginning to overcome him.

"He did what he thought he had to. I cannot despise him for that," the angel murmured quietly.

Dean scowled unhappily. "He can rot for all I care. Once a demon, always a demon."

 

* * *

 

He was alone again. Alone in the dark.

It had been days. At least…he thought it had been. It was hard to keep track of time in the black room he now called home. He knew he was in a basement somewhere; the room had that chill and hint of damp that only rooms below ground level could have. Though he couldn't see, he knew the room by heart. If he lifted his head far enough, there was a metal door over on the other side of the room; a big solid thing, rusty with misuse. On the right was an old bookshelf, empty and decaying. Wherever he was, it had been abandoned long ago; no-one would come looking. He knew this, repeated it to himself over and over, yet the thought still made his heart beat faster and palms sweat.

He had had it all figured out. The plan should have been fail proof, but instead the devil decided to mess it all up and be invincible. Still, he had thought it could still swing his way, but then  _she_ had entered the game. Eve. That was when he realized he had made a grievous error in judgment. He had bet on the wrong horse, and the winning one was not only going to win first prize, but also wipe out the world. It made sense to try and even the odds again, a little sabotage here, a little lying there and it was all supposed to play out nicely. No-one would get hurt, he wouldn't get killed, and everyone could go home happy.

Maybe he should re-examine his business decisions.

Crowley tried to move his legs, stifling a pained scream as the movement sent red hot shards of pain echoing along his nerves. If there was ever a moment to regret being a crossroad demon, now was it. He just couldn't help it; double crossing was in his  _blood._  It was part of his name for God's sake,  _cross_ road demon. Those angels never should have trusted him. They should have known better.  _He_ should have known better.

The leather straps holding him down dug into his wrists painfully, and Crowley attempted to pull at them; biting down hard on the gag in his mouth as he found his hands and arms just as painful as his legs.

Way back when, when Crowley had been just a lowly fish in a demonic ocean, pain was a badge of honor; a status symbol. Demons loved to brag about how long it took them to  _become_  said demons. Like it was evidence of their demonic prowess; a show of how much pain they could take.

" _My time on the rack was longer than yours."_

" _No it wasn't! Mine was!"_

" _Hey guys, check out the size of_ _ **my**  _ _rack."_

Yeah. Crowley had never really been one of those. He'd never fit in with the twisted black-eyes, who got off on pain, both theirs and inflicting it on others. Little known fact? Fergus McLeod had been on the rack for about five minutes and twenty-five seconds before deciding to become a demon. He had never been particularly  _good_  at handling pain, and the creature he then became was just as bad at it. Laughable really; a demon who hated pain. So it seemed like a logical move, going into sales. Only pain was the kind he got to inflict, and he had always had a knack for business. It got him out of hell, and away from his creepy black-eyed cousins, so all's well ends well.

Except…that kind of fell through. Crowley hadn't been expecting a 'welcome back' party or anything, but he _had_  been expecting…oh a little less pain. Turns out Lucifer didn't really care for him much. Apparently that happens if you ally yourself with his brothers who are out to stop him, and the devil had handed the crossroad demon over to his Lieutenant to deal with. Unfortunately, that Lieutenant turned out to be Meg.

And she was still a tad miffed about the whole being-set-on-fire thing.

Being roughed up by a couple of black-eyes seemed like a loving hug compared to what she did. Crowley had been forced, naked, down onto a cold steel table; his wrists and ankles bound with inscribed leather that burned. It kept him trapped in his meat suit and dampened his powers, but didn't impair his ability to heal. She had obviously done this before. He had been flattered that she went all out for him, and told her as much; baiting her and laughing as she furiously tried to get him to crack.

It had lasted for a little while, a day or two. He had managed to keep up the façade, keeping his screams of agony inside; never giving the bitch the satisfaction.

But then…then  _they_ came.

Meg brought others; vampires, ghouls, whatever had arrived that day to join Lucifer's army. They were more creative, and Crowley would never forget the satisfaction in Meg's eyes as he finally snapped; screaming himself hoarse as a vampire slowly flayed him alive with a salt encrusted knife. Things got fuzzy after that, a haze of red and agony. Meg would come and go, bringing shiny metal tools; his exposed nerves and muscles raw and quivering as she gleefully cut into him with cold metal.

When she grew weary of his screaming, she slit his throat from ear to ear, her teeth white and face speckled with red as she grinned down at him. The feeling of drowning in his own blood was one he wouldn't forget, as she crammed a leather gag into his mouth that turned his tongue to ash. He healed though, he always did, and then the game would begin anew. One of her favorite activities was lancing out his eyes with a red-hot poker, twisting as he writhed beneath her; the smell of his own sizzling flesh filling the small room. She'd leave him afterwards, and in a few hours he'd be ready for her to do it again.

It was too much. He couldn't take it, but no amount of begging or pleading did him any good except amuse her. When she did eventually leave and he was left alone in the black, Crowley just implored the darkness for a death that never came. The dark was almost worse than the pain, the  _waiting._  Things would come in the darkness, things he could never see, but he could  _feel._  Things that were eager to show him what they thought about those who tried to deceive their Dark Lord.

The door creaked open, and Crowley jerked at the sound, still blinded. His heart pounded sluggishly against his ribs as he heard light feet whisper across the concrete floor, fear rising in his throat, hot and sticky. He felt the displacement of air against his face as someone leaned over him, and he struggled as he felt nails drag lightly along the ruined skin of his arms.

"Oh how the mighty have fallen," Meg crooned to him, and he could  _hear_ her satisfied smirk. "All hail the King of the Crossroads."

 

* * *

 

"You've got to be kidding."

Raphael crossed her arms, expression stern as always as she glared haughtily at Bobby.

"I do not… _kid_. They could be powerful allies if we managed to free them."

Balthazar snorted at that. "Yeah,  _if_ being the operative word there. Our last rescue attempt didn't quite pan out the way we planned. What'll stop it from happening again?"

It had taken three days, but Raphael had returned, and with a plan. Everyone had been grateful just to have some time to recoup after the craziness of the showdown with Eve. Fenrir was well on the road to recovery; the deep wounds in his neck almost completely healed. Sam, under Gabriel's watchful eye, diligently had been changing the bandages every day and had seemed to have built up a solid friendship with the wolf. The youngest Winchester lay on the floor beside Gabriel, both using Fenrir as a furry pillow as they glanced at the old scroll between them that Raphael had brought them. Sam held it up to the light, Gabriel tracing the odd language written on it.

Raphael glanced over at Balthazar, who was perched on the desk, much to Bobby's displeasure. "I will aid you this time. If we descend upon Lucifer's position, it should distract him sufficiently to allow you to carry out the ritual; freeing the horsemen and binding them to our will instead."

Castiel considered this, frowning slightly. "And if they do not feel like joining our cause?"

Raphael's eyes glittered. "Then they too will be destroyed in Lucifer's war."

Gabriel sighed heavily, hand dropping back down to the carpet. "You're talking about an all out battle. Many angels will die; Lucifer is much stronger than he used to be."

"Yes. They will," Raphael said bluntly. "But if it is to secure a greater ally, then their sacrifice will not be in vain." The archangel shifted her shoulders, unseen wings fluttering. "If we do nothing, Eve will form more of those creatures. She is already amassing an army of monsters; I am loathe to give her any more time to form her own abominations."

Bobby exhaled shakily, rubbing a hand over his face. "You're talking about binding the  _horsemen._  To us. Am I the only one not liking this? Those bastards killed Ellen and Jo. I 'aint rollin' out the welcome mat."

"You're not the only one," Dean said grimly.

Raphael turned to them both, expression neutral. "It is not a question of whether you  _like_ them or not, human. They are powerful creatures. We need them."

Bobby glared at her sullenly. "I don't like it."

"Noted." The archangel turned away, looking at Castiel. "I would not suggest this if I did not believe it to be important to our cause. The horsemen are not to be considered lightly."

Castiel nodded slightly at his sister. "I understand. Even if we cannot make them fight for us, it is in everyone's best interest to at least remove them from Lucifer's hold. There is no telling how many abominations Eve has already made using them. We cannot afford to let her make more."

Dean pushed away from the wall, taking a step towards the angel. "Cas are you sure about this? This plan is all kinds of messed up. You shouldn't have to go."

Gabriel sighed from his position on the floor. "That's what I've been telling him. But as much as I hate to admit it, Raphael is right. The horsemen need to be freed."

Castiel smiled gently at Dean, eyes trying to convey what he didn't want to say in front of the others. "I will be safe, Dean. Both Gabriel and Raphael will be with me."

Dean scowled, crossing his arms. "And why can't us humans come huh? We can  _help_  instead of sitting around on our asses."

Balthazar rolled his eyes. "Yeah and get yourself eaten the second you set foot there. The place will be crawling with monsters and demons. They'd smell you a mile off."

Fenrir shifted, raising his head and jostling the two lying on him. " _Then I will go."_

Gabriel dug his feet into the carpet; pushing back with his shoulders and forcing the wolf back down. "Oh no you don't," he growled. "You're staying here and keeping an eye on these blockheads."

Fenrir snarled halfheartedly, rebelliously kicking out with his back paw at Gabriel's legs. " _I am no suckling pup, Father. If I can aid you in this task then I shall."_

Gabriel grinned cheerily, clicking his fingers and Fenrir froze beneath him; body stiff and locked by an unseen force. "Sorry kid, but you'll always be a pup to me, just as Castiel will always be a fledgling." The growling beneath his head sounded positively murderous, and the archangel stood, cheekily patting Fenrir on the head as the wolf struggled to free himself from his invisible restraints. "Now you park your furry ass down and  _rest_. You need it." He turned, pointing at the taller man still seated on the ground. "Samantha, I'm trusting you with puppy duty. If you have to hit him on the nose with some rolled up newspaper, or put him in time out, then so be it."

Sam saluted, though he nervously started inching away from the growling frozen wolf. "You got it. If he doesn't eat me first."

Raphael looked bemused as she moved towards her brother. "My troops can divert Lucifer's attention for a while, but no doubt he will become suspicious. It is of the upmost importance that you find the horsemen and carry out the ritual as quickly as possible. It will break the bond that Lucifer will have over them. And if you delay in the second part of the ritual, it is possible that the horsemen will turn on you. If that happens, I will be unable to help you. There is no room for mistakes, brother."

Gabriel nodded, swallowing hard. "Got it, no dilly-dallying."

At the nervous tone in his voice, Raphael's eyes softened slightly, and she reached out to touch his arm lightly. "He will not touch you again Gabriel, this I swear. Stay safe, and keep an eye on our brother."

With a quick look at Castiel, Raphael was gone in a flap of wings.

Bobby grunted, arms crossed grumpily. "I still don't like it."

Gabriel shrugged, rolling the scroll up and snapping it away somewhere safe. "Me neither. But it's something to do at least. The new wards we put up should keep pretty much everyone out. You'll be safe here, don't worry."

Bobby squinted over at him crossly. "It aint me I'm worryin' about."

Balthazar slid off the desk, clapping a hand to Castiel's shoulder. "Well I'm pretty sore I'll be missing out on the fun. Kick some demon arse for me won't you darling brother?"

Castiel smiled, nodding. "Of course Balthazar." He glanced over at Dean. "Stay safe. We will return as soon as we can. I suggest you continue investigating possible leads into the Phoenix."

Balthazar chortled at that, resuming his seat at the desk. "Research non-existent fire birds. You got it."

The angel squawked indignantly as a book collided squarely with his head; knocking him off the desk to the floor in a heap of limbs. Bobby nodded seriously over at Castiel, another book already within arm's reach.

"You bet. You two be careful."


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some sexual themes, cursing, violence, blood, het pairing (OMG lol), voyeurism, public nudity (is that even a warning? pfft).

The sky was overcast and grim, casting a grey hue across the landscape. The monsters took little notice, some holed up inside the half-finished buildings out of the daylight, others gathered in small groups out along the lush green lawns. Already boundaries had been established, lines of territory that shouldn't be crossed, and Lucifer watched disinterestedly as an arachne flirted with the boundaries along a lawn the rugaru had claimed. With no orders as of yet the monsters were bored, preferring to pick fights amongst themselves rather than keep the peace.

Lucifer tightened his fingers against the cool glass of the window, taking no notice as the glass crackled and froze beneath his palm. _Pathetic._  That he needed these creatures was bad enough, but to have to… _endure_ their presence…

He pushed away from the window with a grimace. A haunting scream from outside signaled that the arachne had stepped too far, and the rugaru were quick to punish such a transgression.

He had  _hoped_ to have been building a very different type of army by now, but it seemed his wayward fledgling was going to be more of a challenge to collect than he had initially thought. Lucifer frowned thoughtfully into space, tapping his finger against his thigh. No matter. He'd just have to…plan accordingly. These monsters would serve his purpose for now, and then he'd dispose of them. Easy peasey lemon squeezy, or so humans said.

There was a polite cough, and the devil turned, eyes narrowing at the trembling demon in front of him. It bowed, black eyes avoiding his. "My lord. The All-Mother requests your presence."

Lucifer sighed. Oh yes. Eve. What a demanding little nymph she had turned out to be. Disappointing too; even  _she_  hadn't been able to return his wayward seraph. Raphael's supposed involvement was worrying, but not a huge problem. He'd deal with her just as he had Gabriel.

And this time, he wouldn't allow an escape.

Without a word to the demon, Lucifer pushed by, boots loud on the wooden floor as he moved out into the hallway. It was a nice enough place, though if you asked him it missed the millions of tortured souls and screaming that just made hell… _home._

Eve was in the living room, gracefully perched along the sofa. As Lucifer entered she grinned widely, teeth pointed and eyes flickering red briefly.

"My love." She rose, arching her spine kittenishly as she approached him, reaching out to run her fingers across his arm slowly. "I brought you something."

The Mother turned, beckoning behind her and it was then Lucifer noticed the silent figures standing by the wall. They approached cautiously, and Lucifer studied them each in turn. Shapeshifter. Vampire. Skinwalker. All thrumming with an old type of power he hadn't come across for a while. Interesting.

Eve was peering over at him hopefully, twisting a lock of hair around her finger as she bit her lip. "They're Alphas."

Lucifer circled each of the creatures in turn, head cocked to the side. "Alphas."

Eve nodded, twirling around in a circle, her dress riding up her porcelain thighs. "My very best work. They're my gift to you dear, generals for your army. A…" She ducked her head abashedly, dark lashes a stark contrast against her pale cheeks. "… _consolation prize_ for my earlier failure."

Lucifer completed his study, returning to stand in front of the three creatures contemplatively. "Hm. I suppose they'll do. And why do I get the feeling you want something in return, Eve?"

Eve winked at him, hips swaying as she sauntered towards him; small hands touching his chest. "Can't get  _anything_  past you, my handsome Dark Prince." She moved forward, pressing herself sensuously up against him, her much smaller frame so delicate in comparison to his. He wondered idly if she'd find him as attractive if she could see his true form, what  _really_ lurked just beneath Nick's skin. She probably would. Monsters were an odd bunch.

"Ok, I 'fess up." Keeping her hands on his chest, she pushed him firmly, maneuvering the devil over towards the couch and pushing him down. Lucifer put up no resistance, curious as to what the Mother had planned. He watched as she sank down gracefully onto his lap, knees straddling his hips as she wound her arms around his neck, nuzzling her nose against his briefly.

"Now, I get the whole grace thing," Eve murmured, pressing her lips against his, before pulling away playfully, and Lucifer arched an eyebrow. "I  _do._ You need that little sweet thing to make other angels."

Her knees dug more firmly into the fabric of the couch as she rolled her hips, eyes glinting with mischief as she dropped her hands to stroke his sides teasingly.

"I can't compete.  _But…"_ She leant in to nip his lower lip; eyes sparking red as Lucifer curiously slid his callused hands up her thighs, beneath her dress. Her skin was smooth; soft and warm beneath his cold hands.

"I  _can_ do other things," she whispered, shifting more firmly against him. "Make you…something else. Something  _better._ "

She leant in to kiss the line of his throat, and Lucifer tilted his head back, contemplating the ceiling. He could feel the sharp edges of her teeth trail against his skin, the slick slide of her tongue. He seriously doubted anything Eve could ever offer him would be  _better_ than the possible future only Castiel could provide him, but it wouldn't do to upset such a powerful ally. Not  _yet_  anyhow.

"You want to make monsters from me," he said bemusedly, Eve kissing his Adam's apple as he spoke. "Eve dear, you know it doesn't work that way."

The Mother pulled away, pouting unhappily as she crossed her arms. "Why  _not?_ " She leant forward again, tongue curling behind her teeth as she winked. "We'd make beautiful babies."

Her crossed arms pushed her breasts up against the thin sheer cotton of her dress, and Lucifer admired them briefly as those delicate hands moved back to his waist, sliding up beneath his t-shirt to stroke his bare skin. Smirking, he caught her wandering hands with his; tightening his fingers on those slim wrists. He could feel the bones shift under his hands but Eve didn't cry out, merely tightening her knees and pushing herself harder against him with a smile. She was so  _warm_ ; he could feel her through his jeans, practically burning him, and with a curl of amusement the devil found his body responding to her. How quaint.

"Because I'm an angel, baby," he said softly. "We can only breed with other angels. That's the way it goes."

More or less.

Eve sighed in defeat, rolling her eyes. "I knew you were too good to be true." She shrugged, pressing forward to kiss him again, biting his lips. "Alright then. Consider this…on the house." She grinned, eyes shifting to their true deep red. "Come on hot stuff. Mama's in _need_."

Lucifer studied her for a moment, before shaking his head slightly and releasing her wrists. "Incorrigible."

With a cackle, she immediately darted towards his jeans, fingertips brushing against his stomach. "Oh baby, keep sayin' things like that and I'll deliver."

Lucifer leant back against the couch, resting his arms along the top as Eve unbuckled his belt, pulling it free with a flourish. Throwing it behind her, she nearly managed to hit her Alpha Skinwalker in the face, and she giggled apologetically, twisting on Lucifer's lap to wink at her oldest children as her fingers popped the devil's jeans open.

"Sorry hon. Now pay attention kids, Mommy's gonna show you how it's  _done._ "

The Alphas nodded dutifully, obediently watching.

 

* * *

 

The place they landed in was not  _quite_ what he had been expecting.

Some sort of upper class housing development, some of the houses squatted half finished, and out of their hollowed shells poured monsters of all kinds. Raphael's troops had already descended, catching the monsters off guard, and in a chorus of shrieks and cries, many monsters fell before the enraged angels.

Gabriel grinned as a particularly irate vampire sailed over his head, ducking low to the ground to avoid the creature's flailing limbs. "I give that a nine out of ten. Nice form, but sloppy finish."

Castiel glared over at him, crouched low to the ground and angel blade held in front of him. "Gabriel." He hissed. "We have little time."

Gabriel cast one last longing glance back towards the fighting. Most of the angels were unfamiliar to him, but he still felt a sense of pride watching his siblings whoop monster ass, and wished he could join them. At least he did until a pale figure stormed its way out of a classy looking house, hurling curses and dark shapes hurrying after her.

_Eve._

The Mother was pissed, and also rather surprisingly,  _naked_. Uncaring of her nudity, she swept into the fray; her terrible children flanking her. The hound ran out front, eyes blazing; its winged sibling perched vulture-like on its back. Behind Eve were her dragon bodyguards, eyes already glowing and nails sharpening.

Eve shouted towards the cowering demons, rallying them back to arms, and several werewolves bounded by her, snarling and snapping at the angels in her path. They grabbed ahold of a male angel's arm, tugging him down to earth and tearing into him as the Mother swept by.

The source of Eve's wrath was then clear; Raphael straightened from where she had been butchering a squealing vampire, impassive face flecked with red. The archangel was dressed like her troops, light leather armor and bloodied angel blade held tightly in her right hand. Her wings, only visible to the other angels, arched powerfully behind her, poised and ready for combat.

Eve glowered at her, crossing her arms angrily over her breasts as the hound growled at her side and the dragons at her back snorted fire. "Daddy will  _not_  be pleased by your shenanigans, Raphael."

Raphael didn't give an inch, standing firm even as the hound made several abortive lunges towards her and the dragons growled. She snorted at Eve, eyeing her up and down, noting the blue bruises and crescent moon bites that marred the Mother's otherwise perfect skin along her thighs and hips. "Shenanigans indeed."

Noticing her gaze, Eve smirked confidently, wriggling her hips as she uncrossed her arms to palm her breasts. "Did you know the  _things_ your brother can do? Forked tongues are a  _God_ send."

Gabriel balked at that, rubbing his eyes.  _Ugh_. Brain bleach was sorely needed.

Raphael seemed to agree with him, curling her lip in disgust. "He is no longer a brother of mine. And you are unfit to utter God's name, you filthy abomin-"

"Ladies, ladies," a voice interrupted, smooth as silk. " _Must_  we fight so? Why can't we all just be friends _?_ "

Gabriel turned away hurriedly as another figure materialized in the gloom. He couldn't see him. Not…not yet. Castiel reached over, tugging on his arm and blue eyes wide. The two angels were invisible to the rest of the fighting for now, but Gabriel's weakened powers wouldn't cloak them for long.

"Gabriel, we need to find the horsemen.  _Now._ "

Gabriel nodded, shaking himself. "Right. Mission. On it."

The archangel led the way, Castiel close behind as they moved past the monsters down the street. All of the houses seemed to have a demonic print on them, but one in particular drew his attention; set back from the rest, it thrummed with power barely held in check. The two moved towards it, sidestepping two shapeshifters who were tussling with a female angel. Pinned on her back, her wings fluttered uselessly as the monsters scratched and bit at her, her voice high and pained as she cried out. Gabriel hurried by, subtly snapping his fingers and both shapeshifters slumped to the ground; eyes vacant and glassy. The female angel looked around curiously, before struggling to her feet and lunging into another skirmish nearby.

There were two wards etched into the yard, and after a few minutes of study, Gabriel managed to dissolve them, Castiel hurrying towards the wooden door.

"Do you feel that?" he asked, pressing his hand against the wood.

Gabriel nodded grimly. "Horsemen, tally ho."

The door was locked, but that didn't prove a problem as Castiel kicked it down. As they moved inside, the two were surprised to find a distinct lack of demons. The hallway was empty and quiet; carpeted floors pristine and furniture in its rightful place. Gabriel glanced up the gleaming mahogany stairs, stomach fluttering worriedly. He could feel the horsemen, a thrum of ancient power that reverberated from the very walls.

Wordlessly, Gabriel snapped the scroll out from its hiding place, handing it to Castiel. "You ready for this, kiddo?"

Castiel shook his head. "Truthfully? No."

Gabriel chuckled at that, hand sliding along the smooth banister as he started up the stairs. "That's what I like to hear, good ol' optimism."

The house suddenly shook with a roar, and Gabriel froze, fingers squeezing the bannister painfully. The show furniture downstairs creaked and groaned; paintings flapping angrily against the walls as the light fixtures jigged.

Castiel's eyes were huge as he glanced back towards the door. "What was that?"

Gabriel started moving again, though his legs felt like jello. "Dragons. We better hurry this up before they burn everything to the ground."

There were only three rooms upstairs, and narrowing his eyes, Gabriel jerked his head towards the first. Etched into the wood of the door were symbols; an old forgotten language, and taking a deep breath and a twist of his fingers, the archangel erased them.

 

* * *

 

It was the click of the door that drew their attention, and all four horsemen looked up as the door swung open.

Death smiled, rising from the chair he had been sitting in, fingers clenching around his cane.

"Ah. I was wondering when you'd arrive."

War struggled up from his prone position on the bed, leaning back on his elbows as he glared at the two figures that moved into the room. Pestilence was seated beside him, and put a stilling hand on his shoulder as War scowled at them. They looked like men, but the horsemen were more in tune than most supernatural creatures, and with a muffled curse, War flopped back down to the bed.

"Oh great.  _More_ angels," he muttered.

Famine wheezed something in amusement, seated in his wheelchair. Death clicked his tongue, flat black eyes not leaving the two in front of him.

"Manners, War," he reprimanded his brother, voice amused.

War struggled back up, ignoring Pestilence's attempts to push him back down.

"Manners? Fuck  _manners," t_ he youngest horseman spat. _"_ You didn't have a dog the size of a  _horse_  ripped out of you." Pestilence finally managed to shove him back onto his back, and War glowered darkly at the ceiling. "Manners my _ass._ "

Death waved his hand dismissively. "Excuse my brother, Gabriel. He hasn't had a good week."

The archangel looked nervous, but dipped his head. "Death. I guess we've all had some pretty shitty times recently. Surprised you recognized me."

Death shrugged, ignoring War's continued muttering. "Knew you'd surface sooner or later." The horseman then peered around the archangel, eyes glinting with curiosity. "And you must be Castiel."

The angel was clutching a scroll, and as Gabriel subtly moved in front of him, he unrolled it hurriedly, old Enochian tumbling from his lips.

Death looked impressed. "You're here to free us. Interesting."

With a wave of his skeletal hand, the parchment jerked from the angel's hands and sailed right into Death's. The horseman glanced over it amusedly, dark eyes flicking back to Gabriel.

"A binding ritual? Now there's no need for that."

Gabriel's eyes were flinty as he stared Death down. "Don't make this harder than it has to be. I'd have thought you'd be ecstatic to leave Lucifer's… _services._ "

Death chuckled, rolling the ancient scroll back up. "Oh believe me, we are. But we're a  _tad_ tired about all this binding business. Now, you're an intelligent angel Gabriel. Why don't we just do this civilly?"

The house rumbled ominously again, and Death glanced towards the ceiling. "Preferably  _before_  those idiots known as dragons flatten everything. I take it Raphael is keeping Eve and Lucifer occupied yes?"

Gabriel looked stunned. "W..how did yo-"

Pestilence rolled his eyes. "We're horsemen. We know  _everything._ " At Death's glare, the sticky horseman smiled weakly, shrugging. "Ok, well  _Death_  knows everything."

Castiel looked stern as he stood beside his brother. "What are you proposing? We cannot allow Eve to form more abominations with your help."

Death snorted. "Neither can we, little seraph. It was not voluntary on our part, and believe me when I say she will  _pay_ for what she has done," Death frowned, glancing towards his brothers. "But we find ourselves…less than at our best. We need time to recover. But _after_ …."

The horseman turned back to the angels, fingers tapping against his cane. "We will be perfectly willing to aid you without a bind."

"We will?" War interrupted, finally managing to sit up. The horseman looked awful; his eyes sunken and dark, skin a pallid yellow. He looked almost like Pestilence. Of all the horsemen, Eve had taken the most from him. "You're actually considering  _helping_  them? Angels are what got us into this mess in the first place. I'm  _sick_  of angels!"

"Lucifer needs to be put back," Death said smoothly, ignoring his brother. "And Eve needs to be destroyed, otherwise the world is doomed."

"And we're out of a job," Pestilence chimed in helpfully.

Death nodded. "Release us, Gabriel. And we will help you in your war against the devil."

Gabriel looked uncertain, and Castiel pushed past him, eyes angry and jaw set. "And we are supposed to trust you?" he asked scornfully. "After what you did to Jo and Ellen?"

War jerked on the bed, bouncing Pestilence beside him. "She broke my nose!" he bellowed, pointing angrily at his face. "Little bitch had it com-mph!"

Pestilence grinned cheerily at the angels, both hands covering War's mouth as he slammed his brother back down on the bed; War's muffled protests going ignored. "Don't mind him. Post-traumatic stress disorder."

Death was looking at Castiel seriously. "We were under the influence of Lucifer. You can either hold us responsible and doom us all, or you can accept our help, Castiel. I'd suggest the latter."

Gabriel touched his brother's shoulder, glaring at the horseman. "And what assurance do we have that you'll stay true to your word?"

Death smiled, eyes dark and glittering. "You don't. But remember this, I am Death. And Death never lies."

The angels looked at each other, but it seemed they had little choice. Time was running out, and if they could have the horsemen on their side and  _not_ pissed about it, even better. They might even stand a chance against Lucifer then.

Gabriel nodded. "Fine. But so help me, you better come back. You may be a horseman, but I'm an archangel. I can find you."

Death inclined his head, offering the scroll back to the angel. "Of course."

Sighing to himself, Gabriel finished the freeing ritual. As the bonds of binding fell away, Death groaned happily, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck.

"Much obliged. We'll be in touch." With one last smile, Death flickered into nothing, disappearing. With a sullen mutter, Famine and the others followed, leaving the two angels alone in the room.

Castiel shook his head, looking around the vacated bedroom. "Do you think they'll return?"

Gabriel tucked the scroll away, heading back out the door. "No. But I guess we'll just have to see," he sighed heavily. "Man, Raphael is gonna be  _pissed."_

The battle was still raging outside, and in the distance the angels could see the red glow of fire. It wouldn't be long before Raphael would have to signal the retreat. Gabriel watched the glow worriedly, trying to ignore the dark shapes he could just make out in the grey sky; swooping and snapping.

He hated dragons. They gave him the heebie jeebies.

Castiel had moved off the porch, sniffing the air with a confused expression on his face. "Gabriel…can you smell that?"

Gabriel glanced over, taking a cautious sniff. "Lovely. Eau 'de Monster. Not something I want to stick up my nostrils thanks."

Castiel shook his head irritably, moving off and away from the house, forcing Gabriel to follow. "No not that, there's…something else."

Gabriel stepped over the bloody corpse of an arachne, furrowing his nose in disgust. "Look kid, we don't have time. We need to scamper before Raphael legs it and leaves us on our own. Your creepy sense of smell isn't…"

It hit him then, flooding his nose and making him splutter for a moment. Something thick and cloying and oddly familiar. Gabriel felt his wings shiver unhappily. Whatever the smell was, it wasn't good and signaled something bad.

Castiel kept following it, towards the other houses that were half finished, and Gabriel had no choice but to follow. At least it led away from the fighting. A block or two later and they were in front of an old building. The fence around it and decaying yellow tape signaled it was due for demolishment, but for some reason hadn't been destroyed yet. Looked like an old school or something, and Gabriel arched an eyebrow, crossing his arms.

"Wow. You found a creepy old building. Can we go now?"

The place made him uneasy. It stank of demon, but that tangy bitter scent that had led them here remained, stronger and…fresh. Gabriel felt his stomach drop suddenly as there was a feminine cough behind them.

"Leaving so soon? But you just got here."

Expecting Eve behind them, Gabriel nearly laughed out loud with relief as he found it was just a demon.

She was flanked by a few monsters, vampires by the look of it, but nothing he couldn't handle. He didn't recognize her, but Castiel seemed to, baring his teeth in outrage at her as his invisible wings stiffened.

" _Meg,"_  he snarled.

Meg. Lucifer's Lieutenant. Wonderful, just what they needed, a power hungry demon looking to make her fake-daddy proud. So  _she_ had been the one he had sensed, half awake and half dead after Lucifer tried to meld with him. The little skank had moved him to that damn motel room.

Gabriel smiled, cracking his neck. Oh he was going to enjoy smiting this one. Castiel was shaking with rage beside him, and Gabriel frowned slightly. What had the demon done to piss off baby brother so badly? It wasn't like she had-

It was then Gabriel realized what had led them here.

Though there was no physical trace of it on her, the demoness was covered in the smell of blood. Demon blood. No, not just any demon blood... _Crowley_ blood.

Something dark and fierce swelled in his chest, and Gabriel could feel his wings flare aggressively in response to Castiel's. The demon couldn't see them, but in angel terms, both angels were shouting some seriously angry things at her.

"Where is he?" Castiel demanded.

Meg looked amused, cocking her hip as she twirled a wicked looking blade from her other hand.

"You mean your little demon pet? He's not in much shape, but you might be able to squeeze some fun out of him before he completely bleeds out."

Gabriel was a little taken aback by the rage he could feel burning through his veins. It was just Crowley after all, you know, the little bastard that had  _betrayed them_. But…the demon had also saved his ass once.

Gabriel glanced over at his brother. Castiel looked furious; eyes flashing a dark blue and angel blade clenched tightly in his hand. He was practically vibrating with hostile energy, and Gabriel resigned himself to the fact that he was going to have to fight. All on account of a _demon._ But if Castiel wanted the stupid crossroad idiot back, then that was good enough for the archangel, he'd fight to the very end. _No-one_ had the right to fuck with what the angels considered theirs; least of all a skank of a demon.

"Hey. That's  _our_ demon to fuck with, not yours!" Gabriel spat, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Meg contemplated that, tapping the blade against her lower lip as her black eyes glittered. "Hmm  _fuck_  with you say? Haven't tried that yet. Maybe I'll try that next."

"You'll do no such thing," Castiel snapped, wings so stiff and angry Gabriel was surprised he hadn't rushed her yet.

"Oh really?" Meg drawled, the vampires at her side leering at each other in anticipation. "So you boys came flapping to the rescue of one measly little demon. One who tried to sell you out in the first place?" The demoness cast her eyes to the heavens, sighing dramatically. "Angels. Spend too much time up in the sky, nothing in those noggins' of yours but air."

Her short tongue darted out, sliding against the metal of her knife. "I'm not willing to part with my toy just yet. He begs so  _nicely_ you see. Little shit isn't about to set me on fire again."

Gabriel grinned. All right,  _finally._ He might not be a hundred percent, but this bitch wouldn't know what hit her. "Better believe that  _we_ will though."


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: cursing, violence, graphic aftermath of torture, character dealing with torture, kind of h/c, Meg!Death (offscreen)

He was going to miss chips the most.

Oh sorry,  _French fries._  Bloody yanks and their habit of changing the names of everything. Were they even French? It was kind of hard to believe that a Frenchman just decided one day, "Sacre bleu, you know what we can do with potatoes? Make something fucking  _awesome._ " Not that he was complaining mind you, that person was a  _genius_ but still…

A distant boom shook his attention back to the present, and Crowley jerked, opening his eyes and wincing at the pain.

Oh great he really was going insane. Lying here thinking about food of all things, probably bleeding everywhere as he waited for someone to come and mess him up some more. But torture had that effect he supposed, made you lose touch with what was real and what wasn't. Wouldn't be long now, not long at all and he'd find himself back in cozy ol' hell, all roasty toasty. He'd been counting all the things he was going to miss, but had been stuck on French fries. Maybe Scotch too. Oh and making deals of course. And chips. Wait, had he already said that? Everything was…kind of fuzzy.

Crowley blinked, testing his vision. Couldn't see shit, and every blink felt like someone was dragging sandpaper over his eyeballs, so after several attempts, the demon just closed his eyes again.

Humans seemed to believe that when dying, their short lives would flash in front of their eyes. Crowley had always scoffed at that; most of the humans he did business with didn't have _time_ to watch their life flash by, before the hellhounds ripped them apart.

But in these dark moments, he envied them. He envied their quick deaths and dying gasps as their life force ebbed away in a flush a warm liquid. Envied what they must see, be it friends, family, or lovers. Happier times that he could never have known, denied by his very nature.

Seriously, he was seeing  _French fries_. All hail Crowley, King of the Pathetic.

Course…there were a few things he remembered. Disjointed images danced in his head despite his ruined eyes. Glimpses of things he had done, creatures he had known. It was pretty boring actually, but it always ended the same; two insufferable humans and a shit load of angels. An old hunter with a ratty old baseball cap. The good guys. Flannel shirts, rickety wooden stairs, and a huge wolf that was scary as hell.

Ha ha.  _Hell._ Home sweet home! The good guys got to save the day, and the bad guys got to go back home to suffer for eternity. Bad guys always got what was coming to them; they never got the girl or saved the world. They  _definitely_ never got applauded as the credits rolled.

Bad guys like him. He was a demon, and demons never got happy endings. That's just how it was. He had made his peace with that, but stubbornly his ruined body continued on, dragging out the inevitable.

Crowley wriggled slightly, noting how sluggish his body responded. The constant fire of pain was still present, and he could feel it but it was almost…muted. Like he was just so fucked up that even his tattered body and sullied soul couldn't be bothered to deal with it, and was just waiting for the final blow. It was bearable this way, floating above the agony in his own little world.

He could hear distant screeches and yells, emanating from somewhere beyond his pocket of crazy. Huh. Seemed like the flames of Hell were already screaming to him, eager to welcome him back. Probably keeping a rack warm  _just_ for him. How honoring. He knew he should probably be afraid of that, fight against it, but if he fought, then the pain always came back. And that was bad. Pain equals bad.

Hell might not be so bad. It was home after all, and Crowley wanted to go home so badly.

He just wanted to go  _home_.

A rickety old house rose unbidden in his mind, and he looked at it blearily. Junkyard. Cars. That house made him… _think_ things. Things that didn't make any sense to a creature like him. Trust. Family. L…l… _love_. Useless things to a demon. Things to be avoided, to be _feared._  Things like that led to weakness, pain and suffering. Was it the house's fault he was here? Where  _was_ here?

The fuzzy cloud around his thoughts began to lift, and Crowley struggled against it, clinging to the numb darkness. No no no no. Remembering was  _bad,_  it  _hurt._ If he could…just forget enough, he'd disappear…away from here…

The screeching of the metal door slamming open snapped him back to reality, and Crowley tried to scream as his mind reconnected with his body; pain exploding through his mind like searing shards of shrapnel.

He was back in the cursed room, and Meg was here. He writhed on the table, the metal of the gag in his mouth pressing down hard on his blistered tongue; the metal cold and bitter.

 _NO._ He silently screamed.  _Don't you bring me back; I was so close, no more, nononono…_

He couldn't see right, his eyes hadn't had a chance to heal properly yet, but he could just make out some blurred figures moving around him. He tried to follow their movements, every blink burning. Someone was peering down at him, and Crowley braced himself for more pain. She couldn't be after his eyes again surely? Maybe it was the fingers again…or his knees…

Fingertips brushed against his cheek as the figure bent closer, peering down at his pitiful form. "Oh honey," it said softly. "What did they do to you?"

Crowley froze. Nope. Nopenopenope he needed to forget again,  _right now._ He couldn't do this. Gouge his eyes out? Fine. Slice him up with salted knives? Great. But playing mind games? His psyche was already battered, fuck you very much. His mind was snapping, and Crowley tried desperately to distance himself from his body, struggling against reality. If he could just…tuck himself away until this was over, he might make it. He might…he might…

Those fingers were still on his cheek, tilting his head towards the figure, and as its face swam into view, Crowley could feel the hot sting of tears leaking from his damaged eyes as his chest tightened with shame.

This was it. This was going to be the end of him. Should he be relieved? How had she done it? Djinn? Shapeshifter? Had to give the bitch mad props, she was possibly the best torturer he'd ever had the misfortune of being tortured by. If he weren't so…you know, _tortured_ he would have been impressed. Maybe. Possibly.

Ah bollocks, it was still there. A second figure shifted into his line of blurred vision, and Crowley blinked again, trying to see.

"The straps. They're inscribed."

Oh  _come on._ This shit was not fair. She couldn't expect him to last long now. Not with  _him_  too.

The figure touched him again, fingers gentle as they skirted around his mouth. "Don't move. This might hurt."

Crowley could feel the gag in his mouth loosening; the click of metal sliding free as the figure released the spells binding it. The leather fell from his mouth in a gush of blood, and the demon choked briefly, sucking in deep lungful's of air. His throat was still healing from Meg's slicing, but it held, and for the first time in what felt like forever, sweet cold air filled his straining lungs.

His mind scrambled for a possible reason for this sudden freedom, and nothing it came up with was particularly pleasant. But before he could process it further, the straps at his wrists were loosened, freeing his hands.

_Well, this is new._

Absurdly he entertained the thought of putting up a fight, which was ridiculous. If they were shapeshifters he wouldn't make it a centimeter, and if they were djinn then…well this fantasy  _sucked_. He wanted a refund. Plus he was in no kind of shape to make some sort of heroic escape, he'd probably just flop around in his own juices like an extra in a Romero film.

Crowley grabbed weakly at the hand skimming over his, but his fingers had long ago been reduced to bloody stumps, and he could only ineffectively drag his mutilated fingers along the figure's hand.

 _Ha ha she left me_ _ **stumped**_ _get it?_ God he was hilarious.

"Just…do it," he croaked, voice cracking from his bloody mouth. Was that his voice? Goddamn he sounded all raspy and raw. Could make a go of becoming a country singer now, yee- _haw_. "No more…just…just kill me."

Hm, that came out a lot more begging than he intended. Or maybe he did. He felt disjointed; out of touch with all his body parts, let alone with his mind. Maybe he was forgetting again. That would be nice.

The fingers on his face cupped his sore jaw and the figure leaned closer, practically bumping its nose against his. Crowley struggled to concentrate, to force his eyes to cooperate, hell for his brain to just quit  _yammering_ and  _focus_ for one bloody minute.

This couldn't be real. It couldn't.

But it  _felt_  real, fingertips warm against his slick cheeks, two familiar golden eyes looking down at him seriously. He could remember the taste of cotton candy. He…he  _remembered._

"We're not gonna kill you, Crowley. Though it did cross my mind once or twice, I'll admit."

_Gabriel._

It all came back to him then, the hazy fog lifting and the pain flooding back in. He could feel his teeth creaking as he tensed; clenching his jaw tightly as he struggled to outlast the waves of agony. He was trembling, his bloody limbs twitching without his say so as the archangel helped him sit up, hand warm on his shoulder. A second pair of hands grasped his left elbow gently as the demon stifled a scream of pain; exposed ligaments quivering under the strain. Turning his head groggily, Crowley blinked hard, ignoring the pain in his eyes as he squinted at the second figure. Even through the red haze and blurriness, he'd recognize those big ol' blue peepers anywhere.

"You..." the crossroad demon managed, words slurred on his damaged tongue. "I…you came."

Castiel leaned in close, pressing his lips to the Crowley's bloody ear, and the demon couldn't help but lean into him slightly, relishing the cool thrum of power only angels exuded. Made such a nice change to his usual company.

"Crowley, I am going to tell you something, and I need you to listen," the angel murmured. "I appreciate this is difficult right now, but it needs to be said."

Crowley managed a tiny nod. Gabriel's hands were planted firmly on his shoulders, keeping him upright, and the demon thanked him silently. Castiel's breath was warm against his tear slicked cheeks as the angel sighed against him, and Crowley concentrated hard, blocking out everything else. This was important. This was…something…big.

"This time, I forgive you," the angel said quietly. "You have suffered for your crimes, more than you should have, and I consider you atoned. But know this; if you  _ever_ put our family in such danger again, I will not be as merciful. Do I make myself clear?"

Crowley shuddered. Forgiven? Maybe this really was a djinn's work, and if so…he never wanted to wake up. Let the cursed thing suck him dry, just as long as he got away from here, even if it wasn't real. He could feel Castiel's hair brush against his temple, the slight drag of stubble as the angel kept his cheek pressed against Crowley's.

God he wanted it to be real.

The crossroad demon nodded slightly, and he could feel the angel beside him shift. "Good. Let's go home."

That word alone had him off again; muscles quivering and pathetic little sounds tumbling from his straining vocal chords.  _Home_. But hell was home wasn't it? That's where he  _belonged,_ not up here in the clouds with the bright ones. He had tried to live amongst them, but he didn't…he hadn't…

The angel was talking to him, encouraging words as fire shot up his legs, and the demon sagged against him, ignoring the dark whispers inside, telling him this wasn't real.

They were here _._  And they were taking him  _home._

* * *

 

Gabriel was biting his lip, his eyes furious but voice carefully light as he surveyed the bloody mess in front of him. "She really did a number on you didn't she, babe?"

Castiel pulled away from the demon to glance at the carnage his brother talked about. It hadn't been hard to find the room Crowley had been kept in. The old building was large, but the smell of demon blood only led one way; down. They had encountered a few creatures along the way, vampires and ghouls mostly, that they had dispatched relatively easily. The cold musty room the demon had been kept in used to be a storage facility of some sort, but now served a much darker purpose. A table with gleaming metal tools winked at him nearby, some a murky wet red, and Castiel refused to look at them. He hadn't been sure what they would discover but it had not been…this.

Crowley was muttering under his breath, something about djinn's and fire as Castiel moved away slightly, peering down the demon's bloody body. His legs had been flayed; the skin peeled away to reveal the raw damaged muscle and bone beneath. Gabriel was trying to heal it, but judging by his frustrated growls, he was unable to. Finally, the archangel pulled away with an angry shake of his head.

"Enchanted knives," he said quietly, raising his eyes to meet Castiel's. "I can't heal all the damage. Think it was salt encrusted too, the muscle is burnt all to hell."

Castiel's stomach lurched violently, and for a moment he struggled against the nausea rising in his stomach. Since when had he become so easily sickened by the evil demons were capable of? He had seen far worse during his time in hell.

Gabriel shot him a curious look as Castiel moved away, hand clapped to his mouth. Shaking his head, Castiel motioned with his other hand, and Gabriel nodded, moving back towards the demon's upper body. The archangel pasted a wide false smile of encouragement on his face, even though he knew Crowley couldn't see him. The demon's eyes were blistered, puffed black and purple; leaking blood as the demon turned his head towards Gabriel as he approached.

Gabriel touched Crowley's shoulder gently, avoiding the blistered flesh. "Well I know you're obviously having a  _wonderful_ time sweetheart, but I think we should get you home yeah? This place is a bit of a dump."

Neither angel was prepared as Crowley reached out weakly, bloody hands scrabbling against Gabriel's face and pulling him closer. The demon's fingers had been broken at the knuckles, several amputated, and his hands were blistered and blackened. His arms were a mess of cuts and burns, and Castiel was sure he recognized several wounds that could only be bites. Vampiric perhaps. It was worse than Castiel could have imagined, and he kept his hand firmly pressed to his mouth, simultaneously battling against nausea and pure blinding  _rage._ Gabriel made no move to pull away as the crossroad demon pulled him close, merely blinking perplexedly as Crowley rested his forehead against the archangel's.

A long reddened gash grinned along the demon's throat; stretching towards his ears and the demon struggled for a moment with words, the wound opening and closing as he breathed.

"I…sorry," he wheezed, his voice cracked and trembling. "So…sorry."

The same fierce protectiveness that had risen in his chest at Meg's callous words, swelled again, and before he could consider what he was doing, Castiel's wings manifested, sweeping forward. He trailed their edges along the ruined mess of the demon's arms and back, and Crowley stiffened, injured eyes widening slightly where the gazed into Gabriel's.

Angels never revealed their wings to demons, even in battle. It was considered too dangerous, for if demons could see an angel's wings then they could hurt them, damage them. Angels only showed their wings to other angels, for grooming or communication. To reveal them to a human or demon…it was either foolishness or a mark of respect.

Perhaps in this moment, it was both.

Gabriel paused, seeing Castiel's wings from the corners of his eyes. Keeping his forehead pressed against Crowley's, the archangel's own speckled brown wings rose high above his shoulders, curving forward to wrap around the demon. Gabriel's hands were gentle as they held the demon's tear stained cheeks.

"You didn't think we'd  _leave_  you did you?" Gabriel said lightly. "We're not called angels for nothing."

Soft wounded noises were coming from the demon as he slumped; his eyes squeezed shut as his body shuddered.

"Wh...why?" his voice was weak and trembling. " _Why?"_

Gabriel glanced over at his brother, eyes questioning.

Indeed, why? Crowley was a demon, something that Castiel should never associate with and despise. It would have been easy to simply leave the demon to his fate, but it would not have been  _right._ The demon had made bad choices, but for good reasons. If that did not make him as much a part of what Castiel considered his odd… _pack_ as Fenrir had put it, then he did not know what would.

Castiel moved forward, bending down to touch his lips to the demon's ear again. "I said  _our_ family," he murmured. "We do not leave anyone behind. As annoying and demonic as they may be."

Gabriel nodded, gently butting Crowley's forehead affectionately with his own. "Besides who would help me tease the Winchesters? Castiel is  _terrible_ at it."

Crowley kept his eyes closed, chest heaving, and Gabriel's hand slid to the back of his skull, fingers rubbing small circles through sweat dampened hair as the archangel skimmed gentle lips across the demon's forehead. "Come on. Let's get you out of here."

Both angels had to help the demon swing his fleshless legs over the side of the metal table. Crowley sat at the edge of the metal table, head swaying drunkenly, before leaning forward suddenly, head between his bloody legs as his stomach heaved.

"I can't…I just…can't," Crowley murmured helplessly, twisting his ruined fingers tightly in the sleeve of Gabriel's shirt.

"That's okay," Gabriel said soothingly. "Easy."

Castiel kept his hands firmly on the demon's shoulders, saying nothing as the demon choked and vomited. As the tremors that had seized his body died down, the angels helped the demon back up, trying to avoid touching the worst of his wounds. There were too many open and bleeding expanses of flesh to consider putting clothes on him, but Gabriel conjured up a smooth cotton sheet that they managed to tuck around the demon's naked lower body, preserving some of his dignity.

Crowley's eyes were still bleeding and unfocused as he shook his head, the wound in his throat opening and closing. "She'll…she'll be back."

It took a moment for both angels to realize what he was talking about, and they shot mirrored looks of fury at each other. Gabriel gently carded his fingers through Crowley's hair; pushing it away from his glistening forehead. "I doubt it. She's…otherwise occupied. Forever."

Crowley's eyes tracked the archangel's face blindly. "She's…dead?"

Oh she was a bit more than dead. Castiel had been embarrassed by the carnage he had wrought upon the demon, but now he only wished he had made it last  _longer_. Such powerful feelings were new to him, and he glanced away, struggling against the dark feelings in his chest.

Gabriel smiled kindly at Crowley, running his thumb along the demon's cheekbone comfortingly.

"Deader than dead. I pulled her out of that meat suit of hers and little brother here…" Gabriel glanced over at Castiel, his eyes glinting with pride. "Well let's just say that he wasn't going to let her go back to hell. She's dead. So dead she makes dead look like a pleasant nap."

Crowley nodded once, and Gabriel reached down, hooking his arm underneath Crowley's shaking knees. "Alrighty then my lady, all aboard the angel express."

It took some jostling and rearranging to find a comfortable way of getting the demon out between them. They took to the skies, noting the wasted scorched earth beneath them that  _had_ been the housing complex. Luckily there were no dark shapes spitting fire at them as they climbed into the grey sky, supporting Crowley's slumped form between them. Raphael was waiting for them above the clouds, powerful wings slightly singed as she hovered above them. The archangel was bloody and haggard looking; her black hair pulled out of her stern bun in bedraggled wisps. She acknowledged the two as they approached, eyes narrowing as she glared at the bloody figure in their care.

"I would ask what you are doing with such filth, but I learned many years ago to never question your antics Gabriel. It usually leads to yet more questions."

Gabriel grinned at her, winking cheekily. "You know me so well."

Castiel glanced around them, noting the empty expanse of sky. "Your troops…"

Raphael waved him away, though her eyes were pained. "Will be honored forever for their sacrifice. Several survived, and I have already ordered them to return to heaven. Lucifer was not…pleased with my involvement," she smiled briefly. "He has retreated with Eve. I doubt it will be long before he mounts an attack of his own. Our daring… _disrespect_ of him will not go unpunished."

She swooped closer, and it was then Castiel could see the gashes in her armor; the gaping slices in her ebony flesh that sluggishly bled. "Did you find the horsemen? Are they bound to our cause?"

Gabriel winced, hoisting Crowley's arm more firmly around his neck. "Um yeah…about that…"

Castiel sighed heavily, taking over. "Death would not allow us to bind them. However he has willingly pledged his allegiance, and promised he will return with the others when they have…recovered from their ordeal."

Raphael's eyes were dark as she mulled this over, frowning. "I suppose that will have to do. We have much to discuss brothers, and…" she wrinkled her nose at the demon. "I believe your… _pet_ is leaking."

The white sheet they had attempted to wrap around the demon was already saturated with blood, and Castiel cursed, adjusting the sopping fabric. "Gabriel we need to get him back to the house  _now."_

Gabriel glared over at him irritably. "Well what do you expect  _me_ to do? I can only fly as fast as yo-"

"Is this demon important in defeating Lucifer?" Raphael interrupted, eyes still trained on Crowley.

Castiel blinked at her, wings aching from flying with cargo. "I…perhaps. He is a…friend."

Raphael's dark eyes jerked to his, and Castiel could feel himself withering under her gaze. Though they had reached a new understanding of one another since their… _talk,_  Raphael was still his elder sister. And terrifying.

To his surprise, the archangel didn't start shouting, or even question him. Raphael merely nodded, flying closer and opening her arms. "Very well. I will take him to the Singer house."

Gabriel paused, studying his sister shrewdly. "You won't smite him? Or do nasty things to him?"

Raphael actually snorted then, arching a slim eyebrow at Gabriel as she gathered Crowley into her arms. "I do not believe any  _more_ nasty things could be done. The wretch is half alive as it is."

Crowley was still muttering something that sounded oddly like  _French fries_  as the archangel tucked him against her chest. "You have my word I will deliver him safely. Follow me brothers, and do not pause. The dragons are gone for now, but I fear they may return."

Raphael took off in a whirl of ivory feathers. Gabriel shot a look over at his younger brother.

"What the heck did you  _do_ to her kiddo?" he joked. "She was never this nice.  _Ever._ "

Castiel smiled tiredly, starting the long flight back to Bobby's. "My natural good looks and charisma evidently."

Gabriel's laughter was loud as they flew above the clouds, and Castiel relished the sound.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soppy times ho! And slight Crowley/Bobby? I don't even know anymore.

It was hard to believe that the broken bleeding thing in Raphael's arms was Crowley.

The archangel materialized in a whirlwind of impatient energy; her arrival scattering the many pages of notes Bobby had begun to collect on the desk. A yellowed page with scrawled crooked symbols smacked Dean in the face, and as he clawed the offending sheet away from him, he was surprised to find Bobby already up and moving; checking the unresponsive and bleeding demon.

"Upstairs," the old hunter said gruffly, jerking his head in a  _follow me_ motion at the perplexed archangel as he started towards the stairs. Dean gaped at him, momentarily lost for words that someone as mistrusting and shrewd as  _Bobby_ was just letting that little snake slither back. Sam was shooting him glares that clearly warned him not to say anything, but Dean couldn't let this just lie.

"And  _what_  is he doing here?" he asked fiercely, pointing accusingly at Raphael. "Last time I checked, traitor demons weren't allowed in the house."

Raphael opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by Bobby, his voice icy and very Dad-like. "And last time I checked, this was  _my_ goddamn house, as beat up as she is."

"Maybe you should put him in the panic room," Sam, ever the peace maker, suggested.

The younger Winchester had barely moved from his spot on the floor the whole time the angels had been gone. Whilst Dean had been fretting and worrying, Sam had made himself a little fort of books, head bowed low and teeth chewing on his lip as he read through each text carefully, scanning the tiny writing for any hint at a phoenix. Fenrir had begrudgingly followed Gabriel's orders, and once he found himself able to move again, he had shifted back over to Sam, head balanced on the human's thigh as he helped with translations.

Bobby shook his head impatiently, gesturing towards Raphael to follow him again. "In that state? He won't make it through the night. He can have my bed."

Before Dean could muster up more reasons why that was a terrible idea, Raphael disappeared. The accompanying thump from upstairs signaled she had followed Bobby, and Dean scowled to himself.

"Well don't blame me when he sells us all out again," he said angrily, narrowly avoiding Fenrir's tail as he stomped back into the study. "Son of a bitch, Cas better be o-"

The displacement of air in front of him made him draw up short, eyes blinking in confusion, but his heart already sighing in relief. Cas's hair was all over the place, his eyes tired and the front of his white shirt stained red, and Gabriel didn't look much better off. Fenrir was up immediately, at Gabriel's side in two bounds, pressing his nose worriedly against his Father's stomach and checking for wounds.

Gabriel pushed him away playfully, twisting his fingers in the wolf's thick fur affectionately. "I'm fine, you overgrown cotton ball. Yeesh your nose is cold!"

Sam had finally torn himself away from his book fort, and he smiled at both angels as he shoved his hands into his dusty jean pockets, one cheek smudged with ink. "Glad to see you two are ok. How'd it go?"

Gabriel shrugged. "Eh, you know, same old same old. Monsters, demons and horsemen oh my."

Cas tugged off his tie wearily, looking sadly down at his ruined shirt. "I suppose it went better than expected, considering. Death has pledged his allegiance to us willingly. We can only hope he will honor it."

Dean  _meant_ to tell him how glad he was that the angel was back, that he was ok, and everything was fine, but what  _actually_ came out wasn't anything close; his voice sharp and seething. "See you brought a stray back with you."

Cas paused, tie dangling loosely in one hand. "Dean," he warned. "I know that you dislike him, but I ask that yo-"

"He's a demon Cas!"

Both Gabriel and Sam beat a hasty retreat back towards the living room, Fenrir slinking after them with his belly close to the floor. Hunter and angel stared each other down, the study very quiet.

"He has been through much, Dean," Cas's voice was low and firm, eyes stern. "I ask that you treat him…if not civilly, then with at least indifference."

Dean felt his teeth grinding as he clenched his jaw, eyes flashing. "Don't I get a say in this? Why'd you bring him back huh? He'll probably just sell us out again!"

Cas's eyes never left his as he tossed his tie onto the desk. "He will do no such thing, and what they were doing to him…what they  _did_ was abhorrent. I would not leave a family member to such a fate."

Apparently signaling the conversation was over, Cas pushed him gently aside, walking out into the living room. Flabergasted for a moment, Dean turned sharply, striding after the angel, notes crunching under his boots loudly. Sam was hunkered back down into his nest of books, face obscured by a large tome as he tried to make himself as small as possible.

"Just a minute there Feathers," Dean said angrily. "I thought for a minute there you said that  _thing_ is part of our  _family._  I must have heard wrong."

Cas turned, crossing his arms as he frowned. "I did, and you heard just fine."

Dean spluttered, waving his arms around in exasperation. "They don't even know what the word  _means_ Cas! Demons don't have families!"

"Perhaps they simply have not been given the opportunity," Cas said smoothly, ignoring Dean's angry arm flailing. "Crowley is staying Dean, and no amount of protest or…arm waving will change that."

The angel's face softened, and he took a step forward. "I understand what you are feeling Dean, but if you want him gone, then go do so. Go and exorcise him right now, he will be unable to stop you."

Dean was tempted to go do just that, but he found himself faltering in the face of Cas's calm, unshakable determination. Crowley  _had_ looked like shit, a ripped up sack of meat, partially hidden from view in a sodden bloody sheet. If…if Cas believed that the demon had seen the light or whatever then…that was good enough for him too.

Didn't mean he had to  _like_ it though.

He swallowed, trying to reign in the fierce anger in his chest. When it came to things Cas-shaped, he just seemed to lose his cool. "Alright," he gave in begrudgingly. "Alright Cas. He can stay. But just so we're clear, he puts even a  _toe_ out of line and I'm sending him back to the Pit."

Cas nodded, smiling. "Of course Dean. I would expect no less."

The angel's eyes were bright and sparkling, conveying silently what Dean had originally intended to say out loud.  _Thank you, I'm glad you're ok, we'll be ok…._

Dean turned away, only to see Gabriel smiling knowingly at him. At Dean's dark glower, the archangel cleared his throat nervously, smacking Sam a little too hard on the shoulder as he pretended to be researching and not secretly eavesdropping.

"Pass me a book will you Samantha?"

 

* * *

 

It was late.

It had taken a mad scramble around the house to gather enough supplies to just stop the damn demon from bleeding out, let alone begin to help him. Raphael had tried healing, but whatever it was they had done to the demon, most of the damage was beyond her powers. She did what she could, and for that they had been grateful. Now the house was quiet, and Balthazar padded back from the kitchen towards his makeshift bed; a late night glass of brandy in his hand, and very well deserved in his opinion.

A dark shape perched stiffly on the sofa stopped him however, and as Balthazar approached, he downed his midnight drink in one smooth gulp. Looked like he'd be needing it.

Raphael looked anything but the archangel she was supposed to be. The plates of her armor were scattered haphazardly across the carpet, her stiff leather chest piece still half on. It looked like the archangel had just given up, leaving herself half dressed. Her bare legs were pulled up tightly against her chest, her cheek nestled on her knees as she stared into space. Her knuckles were bruised and red, her hands hugging her legs tightly, her usual pulled back hair now hanging in wild curls. Her wing feathers, slumped as lifelessly as her eyes seemed to be, were matted with dirt and grime from the battle. As Balthazar moved closer, one wing stretched out towards him in silent invitation, and slowly, Balthazar settled down on the sofa beside his sister, putting his glass down and running his fingers through her stiff feathers.

"I am glad you are not also dead, seraph," Raphael murmured quietly into the darkness, face still turned away. "It does my grace good to see you."

He found his fingers trembling as they raked through her soft down. Raphael had never let the younger seraphs groom her like this. She hadn't exactly been…social. "You too sister. Always nice to see a…  _friendly_  face."

Raphael shifted, pulling her face away from her knees to look at him more fully. "I find it…disconcerting being around humans," she admitted, casting her eyes briefly towards the ceiling, up where Bobby and Sam were sleeping.

"They're not so bad," Balthazar shrugged. "Sure, they're monkeys and not exactly  _smart_ but…I've seen worse."

Raphael looked down to watch his fingers pull out a particularly stubborn knot. "Castiel believes they are worth saving."

Balthazar nodded with a slight frown as he struggled to pick free a loose feather that had tangled itself with some others. "So do I…I think."

"And the demon?" Raphael asked. "How is he involved?"

Balthazar shrugged, finally getting the offending feather free and flicking it away. "Comic relief?"

Raphael snorted, a slight smile tugging her mouth and surprising Balthazar. "Castiel has become quite the leader," she murmured. "Able to unite us all, demon, angel or human. Such a change from the unrepentant tiny seraph I once caught hiding extinct reptiles in my nest."

Balthazar coughed at that, tugging some feathers harder than he meant to. "Um…in all honesty that was mostly me," he admitted meekly. "Cassie just went along with it."

Raphael did smile then, shooting a soft look at him. What had Castiel  _done_ to her? Balthazar couldn't remember a time when Raphael had ever smiled…at  _anyone._ Least of all him. "I know. It was…rather amusing I'll admit."

Balthazar sat back, hands dropping from her wing as he arched an eyebrow at her. "Could have fooled me, what with all the shouting."

Raphael sighed, letting go of her legs. They slid down the couch, and she stared at her feet, wriggling her toes absently. "I was…different back then. Perhaps I still am but…I'm trying."

She looked back up, something dark flitting across her eyes. "I have fought countless battles and wars. I am a General, and an archangel. There is little on this Earth, above or below that can truly frighten me."

There was a 'but' hidden in there. Balthazar resisted the urge to press her, reaching back up to resume combing her soft ivory wing. Raphael sighed, leaning closer to him. "But the fight that awaits us, the desecration Lucifer will rain down upon us, human and angel alike…it terrifies me beyond words."

It was a heavy weight that hung over all of them; they all carried memories of a brother who was very different than the creature that worse his face now.

Balthazar pulled another feather free. "He's changed. I guess that's not what you had envisioned when you let him loose."

Raphael winced at that, but accepted the truth in it. "Yes. I barely recognized him today. His grace is so corrupted I'm unsure he is even an angel still." Her fingers clenched against her knee, and she stared down at her hand. "I am…unsure of a great many things now."

Balthazar touched her hand lightly, abandoning her wing. "We've all been there. Recently. But one thing we can count on? A kid brother that's determined on making sure Lucifer isn't going to get away with it. Heaven's prodigal son. You know…the non-falling one."

Raphael chuckled, eyes less troubled, and her wing brushed against him playfully. "I have many 'kid' brothers, and to me they are all prodigal. Such as yourself, Balthazar."

Balthazar ducked his head shyly at that, his own wings jerking sporadically with glee at the compliment. "Thanks. I meant Castiel though."

"I know." As if noticing her askew armor for the first time, Raphael slid the stiff leather off her shoulders, tossing it towards the rest. "He does not do all this alone however."

The two angels shared mutual exasperated looks, as they both uttered the name at the same time. " _The Winchesters._ "

Balthazar leaned back against the couch cushions, shaking his head with a smirk. "Odd bunch aren't they?"

Raphael raked her fingers through her long black hair, wincing as she tugged at a matted knot. "Intensely irritating perhaps."

Balthazar laughed. "But good. They're good people."

"Yes," Raphael sighed, abandoning her hair to look at him bemusedly. "I suppose I must give them that. They have saved a great many, and against great odds. I am…honored to fight alongside them."

Balthazar inclined his head at that, eyebrows raised. "Well that's mighty big of you sister. Considering all that vessel and smiting talk I've heard."

Raphael feigned ignorance, sniffing slightly. "I do not know what you speak of."

Balthazar left it at that. This was the longest conversation he'd ever had with his sister, and he didn't want to run his mouth and ruin it like he was prone to doing. But there was something that bothered him, a niggling doubt that nibbled away at him, demanding to be fed.

"What does Michael think of this?" he finally asked. "Shouldn't he be down here sorting Lucifer out? He doesn't need Dean to at least _talk_  to Lucifer surely?"

Raphael's gaze faltered, her eyes darting back down to her knees. "That is a conversation for another time," she said quietly. "There is much you all do not know. Even Gabriel."

She slid off the couch, standing up straight. For a moment Balthazar thought he had done it; he had pushed Raphael back into her usual cranky self. But the archangel was not angry or seething as she turned to look down at him, her eyes still soft.

"You should rest. I will return to heaven. There is still much to do."

Balthazar nodded, pushing himself up. "I better go check on that idiot demon of ours." He watched as Raphael stretched her arms, wincing as it pulled at her wounds from the battle. Her wing looked better, maybe she'd let him groom the other sometime.

"You know…" he started. Raphael turned to look at him, and Balthazar swallowed heavily, suddenly feeling foolish. "Well…you don't have to go back to heaven just yet. You can rest here…if you want. You know, the more the merrier!" He smiled. "Give Bobby something else to complain about."

Raphael looked around the room incredulously, eyes roving across the damp stained walls and tattered carpet. "Stay here? In this…building?"

"Well that's the general idea of a house, yes," Balthazar chuckled.

Raphael paused, and her wings moved forward to brush against his gently. "I will…consider it. Thank you."

Balthazr nodded, moving away and towards the stairs. "Any time, sis."

 

* * *

 

When Crowley finally managed to struggle back to the surface of consciousness, he felt more… _aware_ than he had in days. His skin still burned, a deep inferno that festered in his legs and at first as he cast around in the darkness, he thought that Meg had returned and taken his eyes again. But there was no unyielding metal beneath his back, and he could move, free from restraints. It took him several tries, but as he blinked, slowly the blackness began to dissolve, and the room swam into focus. And it  _was_  a room, no concrete walls or musty cold air. Old wallpaper peeled from the walls, faded photographs and a lamp that looked several hundred years too out of fashion.

Another flume of fire shot up his legs, and the demon hissed, weakly raising his head.

There, settled at his feet was another angel. He sat on the edge of the bed- _bed he was in a_ _ **bed**_ **-** and was applying something to the wreckage that was Crowley's legs. At his hiss of pain, the angel looked up, and Crowley's muddled brain remembered his face.

Balthazar.

"Well hello there Sleeping Beauty," the angel smiled, teeth white in the dark. "Glad you could rejoin us. Good news is you're healing. Bad news is it'll hurt like a bitch, but it could be worse. Well…not sure how much worse it could  _be_ actually _…_  ok I suck at motivational speeches."

Apparently done with the ointment, Balthazar withdrew from the prone demon, tucking a blanket lightly around him. "Try and get some rest. You need it."

Crowley's throat was dry, his voice small and raspy as he struggled to speak, lying there sweating and fearful as Balthazar moved to leave.

"Please…" he finally managed to croak, panic forcing out words he didn't want to say. "Don't…leave me alone. Not…not in the dark." The pain he could cope with. The darkness was what he really feared.

Balthazar turned back to him, his body outlined in the doorway as he rested a hand on the frame of the door. For a moment, Crowley imagined he saw the shadow of wings rising behind the angel, but then they were gone, and Balthazar was smiling at him again.

"What makes you think you're alone darling?" he shook his head and left, leaving the door open. The faint light from the hallway at least made the darkness more bearable, and Crowley tried to quash the panic in his chest. He would be alright; he'd been alone before, he could do this, no problem…

It was a snuffling snore that made him freeze, and Crowley slowly turned his head to the side, the angel's words suddenly making sense. The warm sense of relief that flooded his chest was almost crippling.

Bobby was slumped in a chair beside the bed, still wearing that tattered cap. He was slouched, his legs stretched out in front of him and hands clasped over his stomach as his chin rested on his chest. Seated beside him, leaning against the wall, was Gabriel. The archangel had shifted in his sleep and sat awkwardly, squished against the side of Bobby's chair in a pose that looked anything but comfortable.

Crowley turned his face back to look at the ceiling, blinking rapidly. He could do this _, come on man hold it together_. This probably wasn't real, just another trick. Keep it together, just…you can…

Something brushed against his right hand, and Crowley closed his eyes briefly before turning his head.

Fenrir's hulking form was a large black mass in the darkness, the wolf pressed up against the side of the bed, his head and forepaws resting on the quilt beside Crowley, also apparently asleep.

His arm shook as Crowley weakly reached out his mangled and bandaged hand. He…he needed to feel. He needed to know that this wasn't just another trick, that this was  _real._

Though bandaged, Crowley could feel the heat of the wolf as he touched that large head almost reverently. Fenrir opened his eyes, glowing gold in the darkness, and Crowley retracted his hand hurriedly, turning his face away.

The wolf was real. He was really here.

He could feel the hot sting of tears behind his damaged eyes, and the demon struggled against it fiercely. He was better than this; he wasn't going to cry dammit, he was a damn  _crossroad demon_  for hell's sake-

There was no force, in heaven or hell, that could have stopped the tears as Crowley heard Fenrir's soft whine, the bed shaking as the wolf wriggled closer, tucking his face into the crook of Crowley's arm. The demon could feel the cool slide of Fenrir's nose as the wolf pressed himself closer, offering a silent solid line of comfort; the type only canines seemed capable of providing. Giving up on the pretense of maintaining his demonic reputation, Crowley turned into the Nordic God, hooking his arm more fully around the thick shaggy neck, trying to wrestle his hiccups and shudders under control.

There was a quiet shuffle to his left, and Crowley felt even more ashamed as he felt the bed dip slightly, the whisper of feathers sliding across the covers in the dark.

"Crowley?"

Gabriel's voice was hushed in the darkness, and Crowley could only shake his head futilely. Meg had been doing it wrong,  _this_  was real torture.

Gabriel paused for a moment, before with a murmur, he joined the two on the bed; the mattress squeaking in alarm at their combined weight. After a few minutes of shifting into a more comfortable position, Gabriel tucked himself against Crowley's other side, moving his arm carefully out of the way. He pressed his legs lightly against Crowley's covered ones, his arm gentle were it lay across the demon's stomach. Fenrir shifted closer, and Gabriel sank his fingers into the wolf's fur, locking the demon between them in a protective embrace as they lay together in the darkness.

He thought he had managed to get himself back under control, his breath shuddering in the quiet as he sucked in breath after breath, his cheeks and eyes stinging. He didn't deserve this. Why did they have to make this so  _hard_? They should have just bloody left him. Save him from the horror that was… _this._   _Feelings_ , and  _families_  and shit that he just couldn't handle.

It was then he felt it, a rough callused hand as it slid into his bandaged one, fingertips just lightly brushing. Crowley squeezed his eyes shut, but he could hear movement, could see it clear as day in his head, as Bobby shuffled his chair closer to the bed, tugging that old hat back down over his eyes with his free hand.

"You say anything and I exorcise you myself." He heard the old hunter grumble irritably, but his fingers squeezed Crowley's reassuringly.  _I'm here. You're not alone._

And for the first time in days, Crowley wasn't afraid of the dark.

 

* * *

 

Castiel frowned, gathering the rough blanket more firmly around his shoulders as he stared into the fridge, eyes lingering over each foil wrapped item of food. The sickly yellow light spilled out from the appliance, creeping along the floor and casting Castiel's own shadow against the far wall. It was still early morning, too early to be awake no doubt, but Castiel had been roused from sleep by an…odd feeling. Something gnawed at him inside, a… _yearning._ Dean had been snoring loudly as the angel extracted himself from the human's arms, climbing the cold basement steps towards the kitchen. He knew what this feeling must be; Dean spoke of little else sometimes.

Castiel was hungry.

It was an odd sensation and not entirely pleasant, so it was Castiel found himself huddled down, wearing Dean's Metallica shirt and a pair of thin boxers, a blanket wrapped around him and squinting perplexedly into the chilled depths of Bobby Singer's refrigerator. But nothing his eyes settled upon appealed to him. He…craved something but he did not know what. He wanted… well he just plain  _wanted_ and that was worrying enough.

"Hungry?"

He jumped at the low voice behind him, heart thumping louder as it greeted the object of its affections. Castiel looked behind him, smiling.

"I suppose so. But I am unsure where to even begin."

Dean pushed away from the doorway, dressed in only a pair of boxers, his hair wonderfully tousled from sleep and Castiel's earlier tugging. The hunter peered around the angel's swaddled shape, eyes brightening as he found something apparently worth ingesting.

Nodding to himself, Dean pushed the angel gently away, towards the table. "Alright, you sit down. Let the chef sort you out."

Castiel did as he was told, watching with fascination as Dean retrieved several eggs, butter, cheese and other foil wrapped oddities from the fridge. He moved around the kitchen easily, plucking a mixing bowl from a sagging cabinet; a whisk from a stiff drawer. He was relaxed and at ease, and Castiel couldn't help but watch those sure hands as they cracked the eggs, and afterwards whisked them into submission. A frying pan was then put on the oven and dials clicked. Cooking was not something Castiel knew very well. He had vague fleeting memories left from Jimmy, but they were faded and blurry now; if asked to prepare even toast, Castiel would struggle.

"What…what are you making?" Castiel finally asked, intensely curious.

Dean chuckled, pouring the frothy mixture into a frying pan on the stove and picking up something Castiel could vaguely recall was called a spatula. "An omelet. Used to make these for Sammy all the time. Got pretty good at it if I say so myself."

It certainly smelled very appealing, and the simple fact that it was prepared by  _Dean_  made him want it even more, his mouth watering. Castiel stood, the chair scraping against the linoleum in the silence. Ignoring the noise, the angel shuffled closer to the hunter, pressing his chest against Dean's back, resting his chin on one bare shoulder as he stared down into the frying pan. He could sense Dean's smile, and emboldened, Castiel threaded his arms around Dean's stomach, lacing his fingers together.

"It does look very tasty," the angel murmured. He spotted a small pile of cheese off to the side on the counter, and he released Dean to reach for it. He yelped in startled surprise as the hunter rapped him on the knuckles with the spatula, tsking loudly.

"Saw that! Hands off, hot stuff."

At Castiel's quiet grumbles, Dean grinned, turning his face to press a kiss against the angel's pouting lips.

"It'll be worth it, grumpy," Dean flipped the hardening eggy batter expertly. "I promise."

"What'll be worth it?" Sam's voice seemed so loud in the kitchen, and Castiel felt Dean's whole body stiffen as his hand froze. Castiel hurriedly pulled away, pretending to have been reaching for the salt shaker. He grabbed the tiny glass bottle, holding it aloft triumphantly.

"Ah-ha just what I…needed," he said lamely, hurrying back to the table, avoiding Sam's eyes. Though he and Dean were very happy with their change in relationship, Castiel understood that perhaps others might not be. If Dean did not wish for Sam to know, then Castiel would honor that.

Sam was rubbing his eyes, his hair plastered to one side of his face at sharp angles. He blinked over at Castiel, sniffing the air curiously. "You guys cooking in here?"

Dean was still frozen at the oven, so Castiel spoke, fingers twisting nervously in the blanket around his shoulders, hiding his t-shirt from view. "I was…hungry. Dean offered to make me a…um…" He struggled to remember the name of the food, and Dean managed to unfreeze himself enough to bark out  _omelet._

Sam nodded wisely, opening the fridge to stare inside it, much like Castiel had done only a half hour ago. "Dean does make the best omelets."

Castiel could see the tense line of Dean's shoulders relax significantly at the compliment, and breathed a silent sigh of relief. It seemed Sam had not noticed their…closeness.

"Yeah well, I should hope so. You ate so damn many; I'm a freaking  _master_  at it now," Dean smiled, flipping the omelet onto a nearby plate.

Before Sam could fire back a reply, Gabriel poked his head around the corner of the doorway, eyes glittering. "Did someone say omelet?" he asked brightly. "You know what goes well with omelets?  _Pancakes._ "

Everyone groaned, and Sam sighed as he shut the fridge door. "Gabriel, we have enough sugar in this house to start our own sugar company. No pancakes!"

Gabriel sniffed; moving into the kitchen, a bundle of energy that no-one else could match that early in the morning. "Well then I'll make you whole-wheat ones, you giant sourpuss. I bet you'd want something healthy with it wouldn't you? Like…low fat butter. Or…salad. You're like a giant rabbit. "

Sam shook his head wearily. "How about nothing?"

"UGH," Gabriel looked physically affronted. "Samuel, you can't have pancakes without syrup, or ice cream, or sprinkles, or marshmallows, or-"

Castiel shook his head with a smile as Dean set the omelet in front of him, ignoring the two bickering over by the fridge. Dean shot him a helpless look, a simple  _sorry._ Castiel touched his hand before the hunter moved away, smile bright and eyes soft as he tried to convey his thanks. Dean's cheeks were tinged pink as he turned away with a cough, already beginning to cook another omelet for his brother.

Castiel decided he quite liked omelets. Especially if they were made by Dean.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Non-con past situation (not sexual, but still a violation without consent), swearing, dysfunctional families, past death of minor OC character. Magical angel babies or something who even knows anymore :P

It had been three days since the angels had rescued Crowley, and the demon was slowly but surely healing from his ordeal. Under Bobby's watchful eye, Crowley had been confined to bed for the past two days in order to give his legs and arms a chance to recover. Unfortunately for everyone else, the demon spent most of it complaining.  _Loudly._

The previous evening he had ignored Bobby's barks for compliance, and rebelliously hobbled his way down the stairs to the study, somehow determined to make himself useful. The strain of moving on his still healing muscles however proved too much, and the demon managed to reopen several wounds, bleeding across Bobby's floor.

Suffice to say, the demon wouldn't be moving for the rest of the day. At Bobby's request (maybe  _yelling_ was more accurate), Gabriel had swaddled the demon's limbs in stiff casts, preventing him from any more rebellious escapades. As much as Crowley didn't want to, he had to rest, and he sat sullenly on the couch; limbs stuck out from his body stiffly as he glowered at anyone who looked his way. Of course the image was somewhat ruined by the fact that Gabriel had made the casts a bright neon pink, and shortly after _that_  had found a marker pen. He and Balthazar may have been a little too enthusiastic with their artistic abilities.

Crowley sighed heavily, wriggling his hips against the couch cushion, his stiff arms waving in front of him. A grinning flying phallus winked back at him from his left arm, and he scowled at it as Gabriel snickered softly across the room.

"Problem?" the archangel asked innocently, and Balthazar threw him a conspiring grin. Crowley stuck his tongue out at them both childishly, unable to gesture rudely with his healing fingers.

"I am itchy in places I didn't know existed," he said grumpily. "It's bloody irritating." With another furious wiggle, the demon slumped back against the couch cushions forlornly. Bobby was seated beside him, nose buried in yet another musty book, and the hunter muttered something under his breath as he shook his head.

Crowley glanced slyly at him, and coughed politely. "Bobby darling, I don't suppose you would-"

"Hell no." Bobby grunted, eyes still reading the tiny inked writing of the book in his lap. "I aint scratchin' or rubbin' any body parts. _Especially_ if it's the bit I think it is."

Crowley huffed to himself. The scar stretched across his throat was shiny and pink now; healing like the rest of him. "What's a demon gotta do to get an itch scratched around here? I'm going insane!" He wriggled furiously, shaking the couch and jerking Balthazar seated precariously on one sofa arm. The angel looked over bemusedly, crossing his arms.

"Well maybe if you bought me dinner first," the blonde smirked.

Fenrir lay on the floor by Crowley and Bobby's feet, and the wolf raised his head interestedly as Raphael entered the living room, several books in her arms. The archangel had been in a constant state of motion the past few days, moving between heaven and Bobby's at the blink of an eye. She had brought some old tomes from heaven's own library and Sam had nearly gone into cardiac arrest at the sight of their dust ridden covers.

If he were the possessive type, Gabriel might be jealous.

Raphael was reluctant to converse with the humans, but managed to have a few civil conversations with Bobby, and seemed to enjoy Sam's company in her own way; answering his wide eyed questions without too much glaring or clipped words. No-one had been smote in any case, so Gabriel considered it a success.

Raphael paused, shifting the books over to the crook of one arm as she approached the motionless Crowley. She stared down at him with hard eyes. "You have an issue you wish to discuss demon?"

Crowley shrank under her matronly glare, any sarcastic or witty reply dying on his lips. "I um…itchy…nose."

Raphael glared down at him, before reaching out wordlessly and scratching his nose lightly. Good deed accomplished for the day, she turned back around, heading into the study to deposit her books on the desk. Crowley stared after her bewilderedly as Gabriel and Balthazar struggled to contain their giggles.

Oh Father it felt good. Gabriel's grace felt strong again, happiness humming just beneath his skin. His family felt complete, and for the first time in many years, the archangel was genuinely content. Playfully he stretched out one wing, buffeting Castiel's bowed head. The seraph blinked, his attention finally drawn from the text he had been studying with a frown for the past hour.

"Gabriel," he acknowledged in that dry way of his. It made Gabriel want to rough him up some, tease and poke and tickle until his brother was rolling on the floor laughing like he used to. Judging from the glares that Winchester was giving him though, that would be a bad idea. Whether he knew it or not, it seemed Dean had marked the angel as his, and Gabriel's blatant touching of claimed property would not be welcome.

Dammit.

"I'm bored. And we've been researching for _ever_ and we're no closer to defeating Lucifer than we were before. Research sucks," he complained.

There had been no further word on Lucifer. It seemed the devil had retreated with his forces, practically vanishing off the radar. There were no reports of killings, no weird power surges or storms, hell no crop circles or cow stampedes. It was almost like the world was… _normal._ Of course they were hanging with the  _Winchesters_  here, so trouble couldn't be far off. But for the time being, Gabriel could cope with normal. Normal was good. Just…boring.

Sam didn't look up from his hunched position further over on the floor, hair obscuring his face as he leant over one of heaven's books, chin resting in his hand. Gabriel knew the one, and was tempted to tell him about the raunchy sex scene on page 1826, but decided against it. Let the kid find it himself. Gabriel bet he'd turn a lovely shade of pink.

"Research doesn't suck," Sam grumbled, offended that his mistress had been so obviously slandered. "You're just not doing it right."

Gabriel snorted, stretching out his foot to nudge Sam's knee. The movement jolted Sam's elbow where it rested on his thigh, and losing his support, Sam's chin nearly slammed into the book in his lap. Gabriel gleefully shuffled away as Sam took a halfhearted swipe at him with one arm. "Well not all of us get off from reading boring books Sammy-boy. I  _lived_ this stuff. I  _know_ this is a waste of time."

Dean ran a hand through his short hair, leaning back in his chair. "As much as it physically hurts me to say…I agree with Gabriel." Gabriel made sure to blow the human a kiss and a wink for that, relishing the pinched look of irritability the Winchester directed at him. Winchester's were just too much fun to play with.

Raphael appeared, silently smacking Gabriel over the head with one wing as she stood beside him, hands clasped loosely behind her back.

At first, Gabriel hadn't been sure what to do with this new Raphael. She had always just been a grumpy older angel who had no sense of humor and a terrible interpretation of the word fun. She had been a protector, a soldier, a leader when heaven had none. Now it was almost like….she was trying to be a  _sister._  They had been nothing but archangels to each other for so long, that trying to build something else, something…worthwhile, was hard. But Gabriel relished it, relished the presence of her, and could even begin loving her for just  _trying._

It had started out rocky, Gabriel's protective instincts when it came to Castiel were a little overbearing and he was mistrustful and unwilling to forgive Raphael for the whole exploding thing, but slowly he was managing to let her in. She had been unsure at first, awkward even, as to what she was allowed to do or say, and briefly Gabriel had considered what life must have been like for her. Stuck with two older brothers who only saw each other, and a younger brother who just goofed off all the time and made fun of her, life couldn't have been easy for Raphael. He regretted not taking the time to get to know her before, before Lucifer's fall. But they were making up for it now, taking it one day at a time.

Chastened from his teasing, Gabriel arched his wings in surrender, and Raphael hid a smile, brushing her own against his gently. It was crazy how much humans missed, being unable to see angel wings. So much talking went on that they didn't know about.

Like Castiel for instance.

Gabriel glanced over at his brother bemusedly. Castiel may be considered by some to be stoic or emotionless, but the seraph had always had the most expressive wings. Even now they twitched and shook, always,  _always_ arching towards Dean, preening before him and displaying. It was kind of embarrassing sometimes, just how obvious his brother was in his affection for the human, and a shame Dean couldn't see.

Somehow, Gabriel figured he knew. Humans had their own ways of posturing too you know.

Bobby sighed heavily, putting his book aside. "Yeah. Even these books from heaven 'aint got much to go on. No telling what that bastard is even up to right now. Could have given up."

"Alas, I believe that would be wishful thinking Robert."

The voice was not one of their own, and it took a beat before the room burst into a flurry of motion and shouting. Bobby lurched off the couch, reaching for the shotgun hidden beneath it; Sam and Dean simultaneously moving as one, fists raised and an exorcism ready on their tongues. Castiel had been roughly pushed up against the wall, blue eyes wide and shocked as Raphael and Gabriel stood in front of him, angel blades drawn and ready. Balthazar and Fenrir hovered in front of a surprised looking Crowley, Fenrir's ears flattened against his skull and teeth bared.

There was a horseman in the study.

Death leant against Bobby's desk, one bony hand grasping his cane against his side. He peered at them all in turn interestedly, before looking around the study, clicking his tongue.

"So this is it? This is where the infamous Winchesters and their pet angels hang out when they're not trying to kill the devil?" Death tapped his cane against the floor. "Fascinating."

Dean was standing slightly in front of Sam, and took an aggressive step forward. "And just who the hell are you?"

Death sniffed at him, wrinkling his nose. "Whatever happened to common manners these days?"

Sam glared over his brother's head. "Suppose it went out the window when monsters turn up at houses unannounced."

Death stared at him a moment, before smiling widely. It reminded Gabriel of a shark; same black eyes and sinister grin. A killing machine.

"Well aren't you just a hoot and a half? I'm not a monster boy, I am Death."

Bobby had managed to get the shotgun, and held it tightly in his hands. He jerked his head at the horseman, mouth a grim line. "I don't care if you're freaking Mother Teresa. Get off my property you goddamn  _murderer_."

Death pushed away from the desk, resting both hands on his cane serenely. "I understand that my brothers were involved with some unpleasantness. My apologies on their behalf."

"Unpleasantness?" Dean demanded, eyes flashing angrily. "They killed our friends! They helped Lucifer get his hands on Eve!"

Death shrugged one shoulder. "My condolences. But my brothers were under Lucifer's influence. They cannot be held accountable."

"Like hell they can't!" Bobby bellowed, hefting the shotgun further against his chest. "Because of you horsemen I lost two of my family. And you dare show up here spoutin' off shit about  _condolences_?"

Something flickered in those flat black eyes, and Raphael took a cautioning step forward, angel blade still drawn. Death spared her a quick glance, before turning back to Bobby. "We all die Robert. It was unfortunate that your female companions were killed." Those long fingers clenched reflexively on the cane. "I am not here to barter words with  _you._  I am here to honor my agreement with the angels. To stop Lucifer."

Bobby didn't back down, but lowered his shotgun slightly. "What is my house, a monster convention?" he muttered.

Gabriel was still in front of Castiel, wings slightly spread. Death nodded to him. "I am not here to reap. Merely…talk."

Dean wasn't willing to back down so easily. The human crossed his arms angrily, body still tense and read for a fight. "So talk."

Thankfully Death seemed willing to forgive the human his blatant disrespect. Gabriel was grateful, if the horseman so chose to, he could kill them all with only a touch. Gabriel relaxed slightly, moving to stand beside Raphael who watched the horseman with grave eyes.

"Glad you could make it. Sorry we're all a little…jumpy," he quipped.

Death quirked an eyebrow. "So I noticed." The horseman leaned back on his heels, sighing. "I have spent the last few days with my brothers recuperating. Now fully healed, I decided to see what our beloved Satan was up to."

"And Eve," Raphael interrupted. "In many ways that creature is more dangerous than Lucifer himself."

Death glared over at her irritably. "Really? I hadn't noticed, what with her  _ripping an entirely new monster out of me._ "

Flustered, Raphael's wings jerked, and she dropped her eyes to floor respectfully.

With one more pointed look, Death continued, stepping over to the window. "As I was saying. Lucifer  _and_  Eve have been busy. I suppose they have to be, trying to take over the world is hard work."

Sam looked a little winded, as if only just realizing who it was that spoke to them. Death.  _The_ Death. One and only. "But…we haven't heard anything. Nothing on the news, no signs, just…nothing."

Death turned to him. "Really? Maybe you're not watching the right news channel."

Balthazar shifted nervously, wings shivering. "You mean…"

Fenrir barked, voice guttural and barely audible through the anger in his voice. " _Lucifer has moved his soldiers."_

Death shrugged nonchalantly. "The whole world doesn't revolve just around your own little patch of dirt you know."

Bobby looked shocked, shotgun forgotten. "You mean he's not…in this  _country_?"

"Try, not on this plane of existence," Death said, rocking on his heels. "But technically, also not in this country, yes. It's begun you see, for real. Winner takes all, loser…well. Hello end of the world."

Raphael shook her head furiously. "No. I would know if he was, and he would not be so foolish. To march now…surely he does not have the power…"

Death smiled at her condescendingly. "What's wrong little angel? Not prepared? That's what he's counting on," he clucked his tongue. "With Eve working overtime and more monsters amassing by the day, he's decided to go for it. What better time really? Your forces are spread so thin, your allies so few."

Gabriel shook himself out of the sequence of horrific scenarios that were suddenly playing in his head. "No games Death. Say it plainly."

"Very well," Death sighed. "Lucifer has marched on Bethlehem. His amassed forces will be there within the next day, and he will launch his assault on heaven by tomorrow night."

The room was deadly quiet. Raphael looked like someone had punched her in the solar plexus.

"But…I…I would have felt it…" she stuttered.

Death watched her with lifeless eyes. "He is more powerful than you give him credit for, Raphael. You forget that he is no longer an archangel. The years of corruption and hatred have taken their toll; Lucifer is a new creature. And with the power of his army Eve has given him…he has remained hidden from the angels."

"Bethlehem?" Sam recovered enough to ask. Gabriel was kind of proud. "What does that have to do with taking over heaven?"

"It didn't originally," Death turned away from Raphael. "Angels, and arch ones in particular, need human vessels in order to walk the earth. That was your whole plan wasn't it Raphael? That the Winchesters would offer themselves as vessels and the two biggest feather brains the world has ever seen, could battle it out on earth."

Raphael could only nod dumbly and Death chuckled slightly to himself. "But of course, Lucifer rebelled. Vessels are weak, confining and squishy things. He found a way to eliminate the middle man so to speak."

Gabriel felt slightly hysterical at what Death was implying. His mouth felt disconnected from his brain, so of course he just blurted out what he usually did; inappropriate humor. "So Sam doesn't have to be the devil's butt monkey?"

Sam emitted some rather alarming, strangled choking sounds, and Death threw the archangel a withering glare.

"A rather uncouth way of putting it, but yes."

Dean was shaking his head. "Um…what? Bethlehem? No vessels? Is Jesus gonna punch the devil in the face or something?"

Castiel stepped around Gabriel, wings for once still and eyes heavy with worry. "It was where the civil war was fought Dean, where Lucifer was cast down. It is the place where the link between heaven, earth and hell is the most tenuous. It was no coincidence the Son of God was born there."

Gabriel took a deep shuddering breath. "Vessels aren't strictly needed there; either for angels,  _or_  demons. Lucifer won't need a vessel." He could see the relief in Dean's eyes, the sudden realization that Sam wouldn't be sacrificed to save the world.

It didn't last long. The hunter then turned to Castiel, eyes wide with worry. "Not that I'm complaining that Satan is gonna leave Sam alone but…I thought he needed Cas."

Death turned to look at the seraph fully. There was something critical in his eyes, and Gabriel felt a surge of protectiveness for his fledgling. "The loss of us horsemen unsettled Lucifer. He underestimated you, angel. He fears that if he delays much longer you will summon the allies you need and somehow defeat him," Death stifled a chuckle. "Perhaps you will. Lucifer desires you greatly, yes, but you Castiel, are not necessary to overthrow heaven. He will simply capture you after heaven is overthrown. It will not be difficult then."

Crowley had been silent during the whole exchange, but now spoke up, bright pink limbs waving around. "Why can't  _you_ just kill Lucifer?" he asked. "You're  _Death._ "

"There are rules," Death snapped, eyes still trained on Castiel. "Rules that bind even me. Waltzing up to the devil and killing him is one of the peskier ones."

Balthazar snorted, arching an eyebrow. "You can't tango instead?"

Death didn't even deign him with a glare. "If you are to defeat Lucifer, then you need the only thing that can stop him. The one and only creature in existence who can cast Lucifer back into his perpetual time out."

Raphael's whole body stiffened considerably. "No. You can't mean-"

"We need Michael," Death ignored her. "I can only do so much and in the end no matter how hard you fight, if you can't get Lucifer back in that cage, then it's all over. Eve can supply him with an endless stream of monsters, and with the…" The horseman grimaced, cane creaking beneath his tightening grip. "… _thing_ s she made from us, she has a considerable advantage."

"And how do we kill Eve?" Bobby asked exasperatedly. "Nothing can kill her except a damn phoenix and we have no idea how to find one!"

Death looked long and hard at Castiel. It was creepy, and Gabriel felt his chest tighten, his wings puffing. Death seemed oblivious. "One does not find a Phoenix," the horseman said quietly. "It finds you."

Dean threw his hands up in the air angrily, eyes rolling. "Well thank you Captain Cryptic. That was very helpful."

Death smirked, finally turning away from Castiel. "I try."

Raphael was distressed, her wings shaking as she looked at Death with blank eyes. "But…Michael he…he is not what he was," she stammered. "I doubt he has the strength."

Death looked at her sharply. "Then we all die. Michael has to stop Lucifer. So go get him."

"I cannot!" Raphael erupted, wings snapping outwards and nearly knocking Gabriel over. "He refuses to leave the library and has not spoken to anyone in over a  _century_ , even the Metatron could not coax one word from him! He looks but does not see, hears but does not  _listen._ " Raphael dropped her head, eyes squeezed shut. "He exists but does not live. He cast Lucifer down once; you cannot ask that of him again."

Death was not moved. "I can and I am. Michael has to fight."

Raphael shook her head. "He will not listen. Do you not think I have tried? I have sought guidance from him many a time, yet each time he…" she swallowed. "It would be better if he had been killed during the battle. For what he is now…is but a shadow."

Gabriel felt cold inside. Michael, heaven's most loyal and passionate, heaven's most powerful archangel…reduced to nothing? It seemed impossible. "What are you talking about? Ok he was as screwed up as the rest of us after the war, but he was…relatively alright when I left! At least...I think he was..."

Raphael shot him a dark look. "It has been many years since then Gabriel. Time has taken its toll upon our brother."

Death was staring creepily at Castiel again. "Perhaps you should send the seraph."

Everyone paused at that, turning their glances towards Castiel, who looked like a deer caught in the headlights. "Why me? If Michael will not listen to Raphael, then he most  _certainly_ will not listen to a lowly soldier!"

"Yeah!" Gabriel chimed in. Raphael however was looking at Death, eyes wide and questioning. Apparently finding what she was looking for in those blank eyes, she turned slowly.

"Death is right. You should go and speak to him, Castiel," she said slowly.

"Why?" Dean demanded, striding forward to stand in front of Castiel aggressively. "Why does Cas have to go? I think he's risked enough for you freaking angels."

"Look around you," Death said bemusedly, gesturing around the room. "You're standing in a room that's mostly populated by supernatural creatures. You've got a demon, Nordic God, archangels, humans and now a horseman." He smirked slightly. "And who do we have to thank for all that? One little seraph who just couldn't take an order."

"I did not do it alone!" Castiel said fiercely, trying to step around Dean who merely nudged him back with a shoulder. Battle for who could protect who apparently. "I have never even  _spoken_  to Michael! What would I even say? Gabriel-" His eyes were pleading as he turned to the archangel. "Surely you are a better choice than I."

There was something he was missing here. Something big, going by the looks in both Raphael and Death's eyes. What did they know that he didn't? Gabriel frowned.

"Look kiddo, I don't like it. And  _no-one_ ' _s_  gonna make you," Gabriel added firmly, looking pointedly at Raphael and Death. "But Death is right, Michael could stop this whole mess. If there's a chance that you might be able to talk sense into that thick head of his, then I say go for it. Michael always just thought I was immature anyways."

Raphael's eyes thanked him silently as she moved forward, resting a hand on Castiel's shoulder. "I ask you to trust me on this brother. Go to Michael. Convince him to see reason. If he does not…"She squared her shoulders. "Then may God grant us a battle that will be remembered."

Balthazar looked over at her in surprise, Fenrir still growling unhappily by his side. "I thought you said God was dead."

Raphael smiled down at Castiel, eyes soft. "Perhaps I simply needed something else to believe in."

 

* * *

 

The library was one of the few buildings that had survived heaven's war, and for that Castiel had been thankful. It was one of the few links to a past that seemed more like a dream now, and he had clung to it. He found it familiar; it's smooth alabaster columns, high ceilings and beautiful glass windows that would put any cathedral on earth to shame. Before the war it had been pristine, but afterwards it slowly started to show the ravages of time. Dust began to settle, book spines began to crack, even cobwebs began to form; though spiders were not something that existed in heaven. Castiel only loved it more, because it was the imperfections that gave it character, that gave him something to truely  _love._

As a younger angel, he had spent countless hours reading through the books, from topics as mundane as how to prepare a hog roast, to the great battles of men. He had loved the stories of man the most; the struggles, the triumphs. The library was overseen by Maoin, an older angel who could often be seen tottering up and down the vast library isles, his form greying and bent. In later years he took to wearing spectacles that always balanced precariously on the end of his nose.

Castiel could still recall the old angel's stern glare if he heard the slightest hint of talking. When Castiel was  _very_ young, Balthazar would bring him to the library, simply to cause trouble. The two of them would run up and down the aisles, shrieking and laughing as Maoin followed; robes hitched high over his scraggly knees as he hobbled after them, yelling. If Castiel closed his eyes, he could hear the echoes of Balthazar's laughter, Maoin's gruff bellows for order.

Maoin had been killed almost a century ago. Azazel, followed by a group of demons, had attempted to steal into heaven and take a text that had many arcane rituals. They failed of course, but Maoin was murdered as he attempted to defend his books. Shortly after that Castiel stopped coming to the library, too busy with his duties in the garrison.

Without a Librarian, the library fell into disrepair. Maoin's power no longer kept the books organized, and now shelves lay empty; books strewn about haphazardly and untouched beneath layers of ancient dust and cobwebs. It seemed Castiel was not the only one to not return to the library since Maoin's death.

Only one angel now visited the library, and he had not left for many years. Castiel's footsteps seemed absurdly loud in the quiet stillness as he slowly made his way down countless aisles. His grace was aflutter in his chest, nervous and frightened. He was going to try and speak with Michael.  _Michael. The right hand of God._

He could remember seeing the archangel once. Just  _once_ , in all of his time in heaven. Michael had been a beautiful but terrifying figure, with huge blazing wings of gold. If Castiel had been frightened of Lucifer as a fledgling, he was absolutely  _terrified_  of Michael. He hid behind Gabriel and had refused to come out until the most powerful being, next to God, had left.

How times had changed.

The heart of the library was an open area, complete with soft chairs, old mahogany desks and a large ornate fireplace. Maoin had loved Earth traditions, and though many angels had shaken their heads and rolled their eyes, the old angel had kept some for himself. Now however, the fireplace was cold; filled with ash and soot. Leaning against its hearth, as chilled and forgotten as the rest of the library, was the very angel he was looking for.

Castiel paused, his wings shaking. "Michael."

The name echoed around them, whispered as if into the quiet of a tomb. The figure did not move, leaning more heavily on one arm. Castiel found himself licking his lips nervously, taking a step closer. Raphael said Michael had not spoken to anyone in almost a century. But he had to try. The world was at stake.

"Mi-"

"Castiel."

He was ashamed to say he jumped, wings jerking wildly. Michael had spoken. And it had been  _his_ name.

Michael's voice was quiet, coarse from misuse. His wings, once so beautiful and gold, alight with flames of holy fire, were now unkempt and dull; not even shimmering. They slumped lifelessly down his back; feathers twisted and encrusted with dust.

"Castiel," he repeated, slowly unfolding himself from the hearth. "Seraph. You came." He pulled away slowly from the fireplace, turning his terrible empty gaze towards Castiel.

This was horrifyingly uncomfortable. Castiel forced himself up straight, trying in vain to control his distressed wings. "Yes, Michael. I came because…because…" His mouth was dry, his tongue like sandpaper as he struggled to overcome his unease.

Michael had once had eyes so beautiful and terrible to behold, that only archangels could look directly at them. Now they were blank, flat and white. His dark hair was wild and greasy, cheeks hollowed. Castiel floundered to say something,  _anything._

"Lucifer," he finally managed, wincing as he said it. "Lucifer marches on Bethlehem, Michael."

There was nothing. No glimmer of recognition or concern in those flat eyes. Michael stared at him sightlessly, blinking once. Castiel struggled on, taking a step closer.

"He seeks to overthrow heaven. And he has with him an army of the damned."

Again, Michael merely blinked at him slowly, wings rustling slightly in the silence. Castiel could hear the joints creaking, groaning in protest, and he wondered absently how long it had been since the archangel had even seen the sky, let alone flown in it.

"He will lay waste to everything," Castiel continued desperately, his voice strengthening. "Michael you must help us defeat him. Only you can cast him back to his prison, if you do not-"

Michael sighed, the sound so tired and forlorn, that Castiel stopped talking immediately, watching the archangel with wide eyes as Michael took a step forward, one weak arm slowly rising. Castiel couldn't help himself; he took a step back, away from the sad creature that had once been Michael, the first archangel.

"If I do not?" Heaven's once most powerful angel echoed tonelessly, dropping his arm. His voice was soft, wisp-like. As frail and raspy as the ancient paper that lined the books around them. "What will you do Castiel? Drag me to earth?"

Castiel felt his temper flare, feathers bristling. He had thought that he would feel small, insignificant when faced with Michael, a tiny mouse facing down a tiger. Instead, it was a mouse he had found. "If I must. Many will die-"

Michael sighed again, the sound barely disturbing the hushed silence of the library. "You mean the humans. It is…unfortunate."

Castiel's wings flared at that, spreading wide above his head. "Unfortunate?  _Unfortunate?_ " He demanded, his voice cracking through the silence. "They fight and die to save everything our Father created and you dare claim them  _unfortunate?_ "

Michael shuffled back towards the fireplace. "I do not expect you to understand, seraph."

"Then explain it to me!" his voice stirred several loose pages resting on the desks nearby into motion, the ancient parchment rustling as it drifted to the floor. "You can stop this Michael. You can stop  _him._ "

Michael shook his head slowly, running his frail fingers along the mantle of the fireplace. "No, Castiel. He can never be stopped. Lucifer cannot die just as I. We are doomed to battle this war forever, good versus evil…our penance for past sins."

"Then…then help me confine him once again!" Castiel spluttered, striding forward. "Put him back in hell where he belongs, this  _cannot_ continue. God would surely-"

"God is  _dead_ ," Michael said sharply, startling Castiel into silence. "He died many years ago. Perhaps it was His plan, perhaps not. It is not of import now."

Castiel could only stand there in stunned silence. "You…you cannot truly believe that. Not…not  _you._ "

Michael turned to face him again, and when Michael reached out this time, Castiel stood his ground, allowing the archangel to touch his shoulder briefly, resisting the urge to back away.

"Oh Castiel," The archangel murmured. "Little seraph. Lucifer was right. You are indeed very special."

The scathing reply died on Castiel's tongue, leaving a bitter aftertaste of ash. Why would two archangels be discussing him? Michael dropped his arm, and tilted his head slightly, studying Castiel's face with his dead eyes.

"I believed the night you were born, to be the worst of my life." The archangel's wings rustled again. "I was wrong."

Castiel felt frozen; his heart stopped in his chest, the blood in his human body screeching to a halt, the very nerves in his brain seizing up in shock.  _What…_

Michael smiled, but it was a broken and horrible thing to behold. "Raphael descended to defend the prophet Chuck, which you instigated, to give Dean Winchester time to stop his brother. You were killed. Raphael scattered the pieces of your grace across the cosmos. It was…impressive."

Castiel could only nod, finding all speech had deserted him, fled in fear of what it perhaps already knew. The dusty air pressed in on him, choking him and he struggled to draw in a breath, eyes wide.

Michael reached up slowly, running stiff and rough fingertips across Castiel's cheek. " _I_ pulled the pieces of you back together, Castiel. I rebuilt you just as you were."

He was unsure of how much time passed as they stood there, Castiel's eyes wide and disbelieving, Michael's own lifeless. Finally, he found his voice and courage again, and Castiel swallowed hard.

"Why…why would you do such a thing?" his voice was tiny and faint, and Michael tilted his head again, studying his face.

"It was not difficult. Your grace was once a part of mine, very long ago."

The library tilted. Castiel couldn't remember which way was up, which was down. Couldn't remember where or who he was for one long terrifying moment. Michael's fingers were suddenly digging into his shoulder, bringing him back, and with a jolt Castiel realized Michael was still talking. Now that the archangel had broken his century of silence, there would be no stopping what he needed to say.

"Lucifer was always…difficult. When Father told us of his plans for mankind, Lucifer could not bear the thought of one day having to bow to them. He believed that mankind could be tamed, if only angels were not so bound to God."

Castiel felt his legs give out, Michael's hand on his shoulder the only thing keeping him from tumbling to the ground in a heap of disbelief.

"When fledglings began to be born, Lucifer saw something the rest of us did not. He saw an opportunity to create life  _without_  God. A gift that was never meant to be given to angels. Instead of waiting for God to request a fledgling from him, one night, he decided to make his own. Lucifer decided to  _defy God._ "

He didn't want to hear anymore. He couldn't. But Michael's voice continued, toneless and quiet.

"It was right here, Castiel. I was reading a text that man had not written yet, a battle that had yet to be fought. I found such things…exciting then I suppose. I was unprepared you see, I never expected…"

Michael trailed off, looking around himself and blinking slowly as he dropped his hand from Castiel's shoulder. "Well. He took something he should not have. He ripped it out of me, Castiel. Perhaps if he had asked I would have given it to him, if only he had  _asked_ …" The archangel's eyes were glassy and distant as he turned away from Castiel, returning to his space by the fireplace.

"I loved him so much," he murmured. "I should have…if I only..."

Somehow, Castiel found it within himself to take a step forward on his shaking legs. Michael didn't look at him, though his wings gave a groaning jerk. "Do you know what he did in that moment Castiel?" Michael asked quietly. "In that moment of blasphemy, Lucifer murdered God. I felt it. God died the moment you were born."

The words echoed around the empty library, and Castiel's chest ached with a fire so intense he dimly wondered why he wasn't consumed by it.

"I was enraged," Michael continued. "For one moment, as you lay there in Lucifer's arms I…I considered…" The papers around them rustled in sympathy. "But I could not. You were so small, a tiny crying little thing and so very…perfect."

"Heaven," Castiel croaked, startled by his own voice. "Heaven would have known if God died."

Michael turned to him again, and Castiel had to look away, finding those eyes too unbearable. "One would think. But it did not. I can only assume our Father knew what Lucifer would do…and did not stop it."

Castiel hung his head, clenching his fists.  _No. No it couldn't be._  "Why did…why did you not tell the others?" he managed, voice thick with emotion.

Michael exhaled softly. "Tell them that God was dead? What would that have achieved Castiel? Panic. Anarchy. Father had so many plans already, I could not see those die as well."

"We deserved to know!" Castiel said fiercely, eyes still trained on the floor. "Perhaps this could have been prevented."

"I took you away," Michael whispered. "I gave you to Gabriel. Good, loyal Gabriel. I could never let Lucifer have you; he can only love himself. I watched you grow into a fine young angel. You are not him, Castiel. I am…proud."

His grace was a molten weight in his chest, heavy and fearful. "You and Lucifer…you fought because of me. Of my existence."

"For a while," Michael said truthfully. "But it was because of  _him_ , Castiel. He was impulsive, rash and arrogant. He could not understand that what he had done was wrong. He wished to create  _more_ fledglings once he saw you were different than most. You were so inquisitive, so curious, so…bright."

Michael smiled slightly, a sad and lost thing amongst the library of the forgotten. "I vowed to prevent him from doing such a thing again. His hatred of mankind grew, like the infection within a wound, and to protect both heaven and earth, I cast him into hell. I believed that to be the end, for he could not access the grace of another angel to attempt such a thing again."

Castiel thought briefly of Gabriel. Of the sad twisted creature lying discarded on a motel room floor. Lucifer could not be allowed to do so again.

"He seeks to use me," Castiel murmured quietly. "You must stop him Michael. Before he destroys us all."

"I am tired Castiel," Michael said wearily. "Lucifer is so much more powerful than I now. Perhaps this was God's intention. Everything must end, seraph, even earth."

"Not this way!" Castiel's voice cracked, eyes stinging as he jerked his face back up. "Not like this! Please Michael, come with me. Help us fight. We will stop him."

Michael's blank eyes were sorrowful as he gazed at the angel before him. "I am sorry Castiel. I wish…I wish things had been different. I would ask that you stay here with me, but I believe I already know your answer."

Castiel could only manage a tiny nod as he looked away again, wings curling around himself. He would never leave the humans to their fate. He would never leave  _Dean._

Michael moved towards him again, resting his hands on Castiel's bowed shoulders. "You will die Castiel," he murmured. "Either in battle, or after; when Lucifer reduces your grace to nothing, and you are but a shadow of yourself. Either way, you will die a mortal death, in agony and suffering."

Castiel drew himself up to look his brother fully in the face, gritting his jaw. "Then I will die. I go to die with my family, and I will do it proudly." He pulled away, ignoring the grief pounding against his ribcage as he watched Michael's face go slack and blank once again. His words were sharp and angry lashing out to match the swirling confusion in his grace. "Long may you live here in safety, _brother_."

Michael turned away, resuming his slumped pose by the fireplace. "I will pray for you Castiel. Though I fear such things are futile now."

Castiel was gone before the archangel could finish speaking, and Michael continued to gaze into the empty fireplace as the library settled back into silence around him.

His words were only audible to him, but he spoke them truthfully, with a depth of emotion the archangel had not felt for many a year.

"Goodbye Castiel, my son."


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Blasphemy, blood, graphic violence, corpses, a whole city being killed basically, and just for plot. I am a horrible person.

The Mother had missed heat. Purgatory had been a relatively chilly place, a boring expanse of nothing, with no light. She had missed fire, the all consuming power of it, how it decimated everything it touched, turning life into nothing but ash.

So it was with almost sinful pleasure, the Mother of All relished the sun beating down on her dark hair, the blistering heat that huddled around her, pressing in along her skin. The rocky plain stretched before her was barren and dusty, and Eve shielded her eyes against the glare of the sun as she surveyed the shimmering wall of ancient magic in the distance. The Veil; a supernatural no man's land, brought into being when Michael ripped apart the Earth to form hell to cast Lucifer down. Or something like that. Eve had never really paid that much attention to her history lessons. No creature, angel or other, had set foot within it for close to two thousand years. It was one of the few places on Earth where the powers of good and evil were pretty evenly matched.

"Except this time of course," Eve grinned, teeth sharp. Her bare toes dug into the dusty earth beneath her, and she gave an excited shimmy of her hips. "This time, I'd say us baddies are gonna pack a  _punch,_  right baby?"

The panting hound at her feet glanced up at her, flaming eyes curious and ears cocked. Its black tongue lolled from its mouth, and chuckling to herself, Eve patted its head fondly as she turned around.

In front of her, Bethlehem was in flames. The smoky air was filled with the screams and shouts of the dying; men, women and children all fell before the dragons as the creatures razed the city to the ground. Their huge leathery wings beat the air almost to a beat, and Eve swayed to it, humming to herself happily as she watched the carnage unfold.

A woman, clad in bloodied and torn robes, stumbled beyond the city walls, hobbling on injured legs as she attempted to escape the inferno, sobbing. Eve watched her pitiful progress uninterestedly for a moment, before glanced down and clicking her tongue at the hound by her feet.

"Up and at 'em precious. I know how you love your meals…" she grinned to herself. "…on the  _go_."

With a gleeful bark, the hound was up on its paws, flumes of dust rising into the air as the monster barreled after the screaming woman. Eve turned back to the burning city dismissively, ignoring the sounds of ripping flesh and breaking bone as the woman screamed even louder.

"So this little sad excuse for a dirt pile is where Christ was born and raised?" she mused out loud, wrinkling her nose with a sniff. "Well… _Jesus_. What a dump."

The eldest dragon,  _what was his name…Balerion?,_  had snatched a man from the streets below, huge scaled shape climbing into the sky with the screaming man in his mouth. Eve tittered to herself as the huge dragon let the man go; watching the flailing shape fall to the earth.

"It's not the fall that kills you," she told the hound who had returned to her side, muzzle dripping red. "It's the sudden stop at the end."

Joined by one of the female dragons, Balerion  _or whatever his name was_ , swooped back down towards the city, and the game was renewed. Eve admired dragons, really she did. They were so  _pretty_ and warm, but just a bit…dense. Easily amused. The blondes of the monster world.

Another unfortunate man was snatched from the city, and the two dragons latched onto opposite ends, playing a game of tug-of-war that could only ever end badly for the rope. Eve giggled to herself as she watched them. Silly humans. Served them right really, building a city right smack bang in the middle of a supernatural battlefield.

Now bored with the entertainment, Eve whistled to the hound and began a slow walk back towards what she had affectionately termed 'Ground Zero.' It was their base of operations so to speak, just outside the blazing city. Far enough away from the Veil so as to not raise angelic suspicions (and she had thought  _dragons_ were dense), but close enough to food. And  _boy_  were her babies hungry, if the screams were any indication. She could fall asleep to such sounds, such a beautiful lullaby.

The monsters that could be moved had been transported already, and waited patiently for orders, distracting themselves by toying with those that managed to escape the city. Eve still couldn't quite believe how Lucifer had managed it. Mobilizing an army was no easy task, let alone a monster one, but the fallen angel had done it. Course, it had taken a  _mindboggling_  amount of witches, and some help on her part, but the main body of the army was gathered. There were still more to mobilize; those who could only travel at night for instance, such as the vampires, but they would arrive by evening.

Everything was going according to plan, and Eve gave a little twirl of happiness. She had been all for just storming the Veil right away, but Lucifer had been adamant. The minute they entered the Veil, the angels would descend and the battle would commence. Why take a risk and just wait a little longer?

Eve pouted slightly as she reached the edge of the temporary monster camp. She was not a patient creature. Waiting bored her. She understood though why this was all necessary, Lucifer wanted to put on a show without a meatsuit, hit heaven where it hurt the most. She could sympathize. Being stuck in a human wasn't exactly the most fulfilling pastime, and her true form itched to burst free from the confines of its fleshy prison. First things first though.

Monsters parted before her, bowing their heads respectfully as she passed. The Mother could feel it in them, the undercurrent of excitement, the thirst for blood and battle. It made the air buzz and her skin tingle. She  _yearned_ for it just as they did, if not more.

 _Soon._  She promised them.  _Soon, my children._

Lucifer had ignored the festivities and sport of human munching, choosing instead to consult his ancient scrolls and dusty books, and Eve sighed as she spotted the devil. The generals of his army, the alphas, stood to attention stiffly around him, eyes trained straight ahead. The vampire alpha had sought shelter from the sun closer to the city, and Eve could feel his discomfort, the murmuring unhappiness in her head.

Her other horseman offspring lay at the devil's feet, and Eve winked at them, pressing a finger to her lips as they raised their heads to watch her. With exaggerated steps, Eve slowly tiptoed towards Lucifer, fingers hooked into playful claws.

"You're not fooling anyone, dear," the devil mumbled distractedly, not glancing up from his papers. Eve paused mid tip-toe, before sinking back onto her heels, arms crossed and lower lip thrust out in a deep pout.

"Well can you blame a girl for trying? It's all work, work, work with you honeypie. A girl gets jealous."

Lucifer had piled a group of corpses together as a makeshift table, their dead faces stretched into horrified frozen screams. Absently Lucifer flicked a fly away as he smoothed the parchment down, ignoring the blood that seeped through one corner of the paper. Eve craned her head to try and decipher what it was the devil seemed so obsessed with, but didn't recognize the spidery lines that stretched across the paper.

Lucifer clung so fiercely to his rituals and books. Eve was a creature of impulse, of lust and desire. She cared little for elaborate plans or preparation.

Sighing, Lucifer straightened, turning around to fix her with a bemused smile. "This is a war I'm planning Eve. On  _heaven_. I want to be prepared." His tongue curled behind his teeth. "And you're not a girl."

Giving up the pretense of sulking, Eve slunk forward, twining her arms around the devil's neck. She was almost addicted to him, to the dark thrum of something deliciously  _wrong_ buzzing just beneath his skin. She breathed him in; wanting nothing more than to just sink her teeth into the soft muscle of his throat, devour him whole until he became a part of her.

"You've been… _preparing_ for days," she murmured, short tongue darting out to taste him briefly. "And I'm lonely. Come watch the fires, my Dark Prince. They're quite bewitching."

Lucifer pulled away from her, and she whined at the loss, needily hooking her fingers into the sleeve of his shirt. "Taking on heaven isn't something to be taken lightly," Lucifer said softly. "Preparation is everything, dear."

It was almost infuriating, the devil's effect on her.  _Her._ The Mother of all Monsters! She had been around long before humans ever hit the scene, yet Lucifer managed to make her feel like a naive little school girl, too caught up in a pretty boy's eyes to pay attention to much else. The devil was a silver tongued serpent with hypnotizing eyes, but the snake had fangs dripping with poison, and would devour you whole if you looked away, even if for just a moment. No apple had ever been needed to tempt Eve, it was the snake itself.

The Mother wandered towards her children, reaching down to stroke her Gollum monster lovingly. They were so big and terrible now, she was so proud. "You're worried."

Lucifer frowned, and she grinned to herself at the icy fire in his eyes. "We lost the horsemen. We have no Castiel. You could say I am… _concerned_ yes. They know. Raphael is mobilizing her troops as we speak."

Eve snorted delicately, cocking her hip. "You mean all five of them? Luci, baby, what army can stand against this?" She gestured with one arm around them, and the alpha's straightened their shoulders proudly. "Nothing can stop us. Relax, my love! Once heaven lies in ruins, we will fetch your little wayward son."

Lucifer frowned at her, and Eve couldn't resist fanning the flame in his eyes. It was not wise to provoke the devil, but it sure was  _fun._ "Unless you're afraid." Eve smirked. "Lucifer, baddest of the bad,  _afraid,_ " she tapped her chin thoughtfully, hips swaying as she moved around the corpse-table. "Let me see, what could  _possibly_ frighten the devil?" She paused, toes scuffing the dirt. "Oh that's right, the older brother. What is it sweetheart? Is he… _handsomer_ than you?"

Lucifer's face twisted in a snarl. So close to the Veil, Eve could see the shadows of him beneath the mask, the darkness of his true face. She couldn't wait to see him in battle, he would be magnificent. "He is nothing but a shadow of what he once was, he will not stop me. I do not fear my brother."

"Why not?" Eve shrugged, studying her nails. "He cast you into hell after all. It's understandable." She approached him again, pushing herself up against his unresponsive body, nuzzling her nose against the warm line of his throat. "I'm not judging you handsome, Michael scares me too."

She was surprised when Lucifer shoved her away forcibly, and she stumbled, narrowly avoiding colliding with Death's monstrous reaper. It hissed in alarm, scuttling away from her towards the alphas.

Whoopsie, seemed she hit a sore spot.

"You  _dare_ say his name?" Lucifer shouted, the shadows twisting and sliding behind his eyes as the rage within him surged. Eve watched him with wide eyes as the devil wrestled with himself, face eventually smoothing back into an emotionless mask. The shadows could not be denied however, and they writhed and twisted across his face, undulating snakes of corruption. "Do not mention that name to me again."

Eve knew when to back down, her voice quiet and apologetic in the charged silence. "Yes, My Prince."

Lucifer turned back to his charts. Slightly rattled, Eve turned away, avoiding the alpha's questioning gazes. The hound leant against her side, growling quietly, and the Mother twisted her fingers into the hot dark fur of its side, relaxing slightly as it huffed against her.

"Let's leave Daddy to his work," She murmured quietly. "He's a little stressed right now."

 

* * *

 

A cool uneasy wind swept through the trees, leaves trembling and chattering before it. The sky had darkened with black clouds, and Gabriel watched them warily. He could feel it in the air; the expectation of something big, something  _bad._  Even Mother Nature could feel it, and she fought against it, unleashing her fear upon the Earth below. Thunder rumbled ominously in the distance, and a single bright arc of lightning raced across the horizon. Gabriel stood barefoot on the porch, watching the sky for any sign of his little brother.

"Why is it taking so long?" he demanded, shifting nervously. "How long does it take to talk to someone?"

Death stood in the dirt at the bottom of the steps, both hands relaxed on his cane. "Perhaps Castiel needs time," the horseman murmured.

Gabriel lowered his eyes to glare at him. "Time for what?" he asked, glancing beside him towards the still figure of Raphael. "You mind telling me what you two were pow-wowing about earlier? Why was it so important that Castiel go talk to Michael?"

Raphael had been watching the sky as well. Her dark hair moved in the wind, eyes never leaving the sky. Another flash of distant lightning briefly illuminated her face, but she didn't look away.

"Gabriel-" she started.

"Don't you 'Gabriel' me!" he interrupted fiercely. "We're past keeping secrets now Raphael. If Death is right about all this, and we're talking about a fight to end all fights  _tomorrow…_ I think I deserve to know. Tell me everything."

Raphael paused, but lowered her gaze from the sky. "Do you remember your last fledgling?" she asked quietly. "The very last you ever carried?"

Gabriel fought against the memory of a shady motel, of a bloody bed and a terrible brother. He pulled his memory back towards heaven, back to a time when things were much simpler. Such a long time ago…

"Of course I do. How could I  _forget_?" It came out harsher than he intended, and he winced, shooting an apologetic look towards the angel leaning against the porch rails. Balthazar merely chuckled, smiling back.

Raphael sighed. "Do you remember the angel with which you joined?"

Gabriel frowned at that. "Well it was…uh…"

A sister, he vaguely remembered. He could remember a glimpse of russet wings, a soft spoken voice. But for the life of him, Gabriel couldn't remember her name. She had been killed during the civil war, he remembered that much, but he…he couldn't even remember her  _face_.

"You wouldn't," Raphael continued. "Because it simply was not important, and that is the way it should be." She turned to face him fully, wings unmoving against her back. "Tell me Gabriel, did you ever wonder with  _who_  Lucifer managed to make Castiel?"

Gabriel shrugged, a niggling doubt in his mind. "A little, I guess. Didn't really think about it. Everyone loved Lucifer, I bet they lined up to have a fledgling with him."

Death snorted, and Raphael glanced back up towards the sky wordlessly. "It doesn't take a rocket scientist Gabriel," the horseman drawled. "There's only  _one_  angel Lucifer would feel himself worthy of."

Balthazar pulled away from the railing, wings spreading in shock. "You've got to be kidding," he said lowly. "You're not really saying-?"

Death grinned at him. "Well someone give the angel a cookie."

Gabriel felt a bit lost, head swiveling to look between them both. "What?  _What?_ Seriously someone explain this to me otherwise in the next five seconds I am turning you all into marshmallows and  _eating you_."

Balthazar was shaking his head, expression sad. "All the shit we piled on top of the kid and you just shovel some more on? The monkeys were right, our family  _sucks._ "

Gabriel didn't need to ask him to elaborate, it suddenly clicking in his head what they were implying.

_Michael._

It made sense really. Of  _course_  it did. Two archangels had never been meant to make a fledgling, but two of them apparently did. And ruined it for the rest of them.

 _Great. Thanks bros_.

But Castiel…like the kid wasn't traumatized enough.

"You knew and you still sent him up there?" Gabriel's voice was low, dangerous, and Raphael jerked her wings closer against her back self-consciously. "Raphael, I thought you were over your bitch phase."

"It was not my place to reveal," Raphael glared over at him. "Otherwise I would have told the seraph many years ago."

Gabriel groaned to himself, rubbing his forehead tiredly. "How come I never knew? Why does nobody ever tell me  _anything_?"

Death shrugged nonchalantly. "You left. And don't tell me it never crossed your mind."

Gabriel glowered down the steps at the horseman, wings bristling. "You know what? It really didn't. And Dad-dammit Raphael," he turned back to his sister, crossing his arms. "Why  _now_?"

Raphael had the sense to look guilty. "It was my-what do the humans say-the  _ace up my sleeve_. Michael has been locked within himself for so long, no-one can release him from it. I thought that perhaps Castiel, his own fledgling would jolt him free."

Gabriel harrumphed, arms still crossed sullenly. "You mean  _my_ fledgling," he muttered under his breath.

Death heaved a sigh as he looked back up at the swollen black clouds. "It would seem that did not work. The ace failed."

"Doesn't matter," Balthazar said firmly, moving to stand beside Gabriel where the angels jointly glared down at Death. "We're going to win, with or without Michael."

The wind pushed past them anxiously as Raphael and Death remained silent. Gabriel took an abortive step forward, feathers rustling in the quiet.

"We  _are_ going to win this…aren't we?"

Raphael adjusting her wings, shoulders squaring as she rolled her neck. One wing stretched out away from her, muscles and tendons moving beneath her feathers. "It will be a mighty battle. We will destroy many abominations."

Gabriel could only stare at her in disbelief. "You don't think we're going to win."

The look she gave him was one of helpless affection. Raphael had always been a warrior, so much more so than Gabriel ever had been, and she knew her battles better than anyone. She also knew what was awaiting them, even if Gabriel didn't.

"I  _know_  we are not going to win Gabriel," she said gently. "All we can do is hope that our efforts will not be in vain, and will hinder Lucifer greatly. Delay him long enough that perhaps…perhaps there are those who can escape him. Those who can may flee to other plains, other places. Other  _worlds_."

"But the humans…" Balthazar trailed off as Raphael threw a look towards Death, who merely shook his head somberly.

Seeing the stunned horror on the faces before her, Raphael reached out, resting a hand on each brother's shoulder. "There is no stopping this. But by our Father, wherever he may be, alive or not, I will NOT make it simple for Lucifer." Her face was grim, eyes flinty and set. There would be no mercy from Raphael on the battlefield, all would fall before her, as long as she lived. Gabriel could only admire that. Wish that he could feel so resolute in the face of his own sudden mortality. "I will fight, and I will die. I have made my peace with it, as should you, brothers."

Gabriel smiled weakly, touching the hand on his shoulder. "Well…I was kind of hoping  _not_ to die."

Raphael smiled at him, squeezing his shoulder. "Oh Gabriel. I only wish it could be so. But even if you survive the battle, you will then be forced to stand by and bear witness to Lucifer's depravity upon Castiel."

Balthazar bristled at that, wings moving restlessly and brushing against Gabriel's own. "Not bloody likely. Over my dead body!"

"Exactly," Death said smoothly, reminding the three that the horseman was in fact,  _still there_. "That's the whole point."

Gabriel blinked at him, struggling to paste his usual carefree smile back in its rightful place. "Well I suddenly have the urge to inhale my own weight in chocolate."

"Do let me know how that goes," Death said absently, moving away from the house as the sound of flapping wings and a thud echoed from inside the house; closely followed by Dean's sudden alarmed shout. It seemed Castiel had finally returned. "Raphael, we have much to prepare."

The archangel nodded, pulling away from her brothers with a sad smile. "Indeed, horseman."

She slowly moved down the steps, wings bright in the darkness. "I will return in the morning, and we will fly to battle." She paused, glancing behind her. Sam and Bobby's voices had joined Dean's, the group yelling to each other in apparent distress. "Perhaps you should attempt to keep the humans here. They do not belong on the battle field."

Balthazar snorted. "Yes. Tell the Winchesters they aren't coming? I'd rather go fight Lucifer now."

Gabriel managed a weak chuckle. "He's right. This is their fight too, if they wanna come…they'll come. Probably storm off without us in fact."

Raphael nodded tersely, moving to Death's side. "Very well. Be safe, brothers. Peace be with you."

The wind moved sleekly through her feathers as Raphael spread her wings, body crouched for flight. Death seemed to dissolve into the blackness, a shadowy figure beside a pristine bright warrior of God. Gabriel bowed his head to her, swallowing heavily.

"And you, sister."

The two angels watched Raphael as she took off, climbing into the dark sky, her white wings stark against the black clouds. Death trailed after her, a swirling ancient entity all of his own. They watched them until they were gone from view, both angels feeling a sense of crushing defeat.

"Amen," Balthazar murmured. "And may God have mercy on us all."

 

* * *

 

Castiel was a mess.

When Gabriel managed to get himself together enough to make his way into the living room, Castiel was swaying on his feet, Dean holding onto one arm. The seraph was disheveled, soaked from flying through the storm, and judging from the state of his eyes, drunk off his  _face._

Dean's fingers gripped the angel tight around the arm, attempting to smooth his clothes back into some semblance of normal. "Cas you idiot, what happened to you?"

Castiel lurched into Dean's side, forcing a startled oof from the human before swaying in the other direction, eyes unfocused. Sam stepped in to prevent the angel from topping over completely.

"I found a liquor store!" Castiel proclaimed proudly, head drooping forward. "And I drank it."

Gabriel couldn't help but be kind of impressed by that. "You drank the  _whole store?_ "

Castiel frowned contemplatively. "The first one. I…can't remember the…the second."

Dean groaned, tugging on the angel's arm. "Alright Jack Daniels, let's get you to bed."

Castiel struggled free, nearly toppling over on his ass. "No!" he said fiercely, wagging his finger drunkenly at Dean. "I will not be coddled any longer!" With drunken flourish, he whirled around to point shakily at Gabriel, blinking blearily at him. "Are there any…any  _more_ secrets our family has been keeping from me? I would very much like to go into battle knowing  _something_ at the very least!"

"We-ell… "Gabriel sucked his bottom lip contemplatively, rocking on his heels. "Sometimes I like to wear ladies underwear. Stockings and all. But that's all I can think of."

Castiel glared at him as Crowley nearly choked to death on his laughter, and Gabriel put his hands up in silent apology, stepping closer to the inebriated, and obviously hurting, angel.

"No, Castiel." Gabriel said more softly, eyes crinkling with affection. "That was something even I didn't know. I think all the bombshells that can possibly be dropped on you, have been dropped. I'm sorry kiddo."

With a slight sniffle, Castiel lurched into his arms, and Gabriel pulled him close, ignoring the death glares Dean was sending his way. The fingers dug into his back were bordering on painful, and his little brother smelt like he'd taken a dive into a pool of vodka, but Gabriel hugged him fiercely, pressing his lips chastely across Castiel's brow.

"It'll be ok little brother," he whispered as Castiel shook against him. "We'll be ok."

There was a definite whine in there accompanied by gross snuffling, as Castiel rubbed his face against Gabriel's cheek, and Gabriel glanced over towards Dean. The human hovered nearby, unsure and anxious, wringing his hands subconsciously, eyes trained on Castiel's bowed head.

Gabriel wasn't what Castiel needed right now, and he was alright with that. Some things a brother, even an archangel one, couldn't provide.

"Dean," The human jerked his eyes up towards Gabriel's at the mention of his name, surprised. "I think Castiel needs to lie down. Can you look after him?"

There was no mistaking the look that passed between them.

_Hurt my brother and I will kill you. But he needs you._

_I won't._

Dean gave a tight nod, moving forward to gently pull Castiel away by the elbow. The seraph's face was wet, and he ducked his face from view as he pulled away from Gabriel.

"Come on, Cas," Dean's voice was light as he tugged the angel's arm around his neck, tucking Castiel safely against his side. "Bed time."

Shuffling slowly, the two disappeared from view, moving downstairs towards the panic room. Gabriel stared after them sadly. Crowley shifted on the sofa, still enveloped in his casts.

"What happened to Clarence?" the demon asked bewilderedly. "What the hell did I just see?"

Balthazar shook his head, settling down on the couch beside him. "Turns out Michael is his mom. Dad. Whatever."

Crowley stared at him for a moment, before realizing the angel was serious. He blinked then, whistling lowly. "Well…shit."

Wordlessly, Bobby moved past them all into the study. On the desk was a bottle of whisky, and bypassing the empty glass beside it, the older hunter just grabbed the bottle.

"So…what do we do now?" Sam asked helplessly, staring with wide eyes at the space his brother had stood.

Balthazar relaxed deeper into the couch, rolling his neck. "I say we all follow my little brother's example and get drunk. Then maybe have a good old fashioned orgy."

Crowley looked wistful as he moved his bright pink arms around, ignoring Bobby's choking and Sam's girlish intake of breath. "I used to love those."

"Might be a bit hard for you, stiffy," Balthazar chuckled, reaching over to tweak the demon's bright pink cast on his right arm. Crowley sniffed at him, wriggling his hips.

"Hey now, us demons are just as flexible as you pigeons. Get these casts off and I'll show you a thing or two." Crowley's waggling eyebrows were almost out of control.

Gabriel chuckled at that, shooting a look at a red-faced Sam. "I think you're scandalizing the human."

Fenrir sighed deeply, tail thumping the floor once. The wolf hadn't moved from his spot by the couch, and he didn't even raise his head as he listened to them. " _If you must partake in debauchery, at least ensure I am out of the room first."_

"Woah, no debauchery here! Right Bobby?" Sam asked nervously, shooting a horrified look at Bobby, who looked strangely unsurprised as he silently took another deep drink from the bottle in his hand.

"Well what else are we gonna do?" Crowley asked grumpily, shifting against the couch cushions. "Last night before we all possibly die and all that."

"Why can't we just go to sleep?" Sam suggested desperately. "Or read, or…something!"

"Well I'll just get out my knitting needles while we're at it and dress up Mr. Tiddles in a dress as I watch my soaps on tv and eat my porridge," Gabriel deadpanned. Fenrir flicked his ears back at that, growling softly.

" _I refuse to be Mr. Tiddles,_ " the wolf grumbled.

Balthazar rubbed his neck tiredly. "You know…there was…something us angels used to do. Before battle."

Gabriel cringed. "No. Just…no."

Crowley's curiosity was thoroughly engaged, and the demon wriggled closer to the angel, eyes wide. "Is it something kinky? Oh let it be kinky. Are there feathers involved?"

"No it's…" Balthazar ducked his head in rare embarrassment, shrugging his shoulders weakly. "Never mind. It's a silly idea."

Sam had inched closer, the inner geek in him overriding his girlish fear of potential orgies. "Go on."

Balthazar glanced at him briefly, before rolling his eyes. "Ok well, it's been a long time since I've been in heaven but…we used to…you know…huddle together. In nests."

Sam blinked, fascinated. "You mean like…roost?"

Crowley laughed loudly, arms jiggling. "You've got to be kidding!"

"It's not roosting!" Balthazar snapped back defensively. "We'd…talk, sing, groom, just…be there. Bonding we'd call it. Helped us focus before battle."

"I like my version of bonding better," Crowley leered, tongue curling suggestively behind his teeth. "Less talking and more thrusting."

There was a suffering groan from Bobby. "I am not cuddling with you idjits," he rumbled, cradling the bottle of whisky against his chest. "No hugging, no singing, and  _definitely_   _no thrusting_ **.** "

Balthazar shrugged, winking at the old hunter cheekily. "Well alright then, orgy it is. You can be the bottom. Less thrusting involved."

Sam looked a little green around the gills, and Gabriel smiled at Balthazar conspiringly. "You alright there Sammy-boy?"

Sam glared at him with a look Gabriel could only interpret as 'Mother of all bitchfaces.' "I'm getting the urge to lock myself in the panic room to protect myself from you guys."

Gabriel chuckled, shaking his head. "I wouldn't. Speaking of thrusting, that's where  _your_  brother is currently banging  _my_ brother."

Sam's face was priceless, nose wrinkling as he stuck his tongue out. "Oh  _gross._ "All eyes landed on him, silently judging whether Sam could really be that dense.

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Like you didn't know!" he scoffed. "You can't tell me you didn't notice all those looks? The touching? My baby bro might as well be wearing a neon sign flashing 'I am banging Dean Winchester, all other applicants will be denied.' It's pretty obvious."

Sam sniffed haughtily, obviously offended. "Of course I  _knew,_ I just didn't need that image put in my head, thank you very much, you little bastard."

Smiles were exchanged around the room. Gabriel feigned hurt, moving away towards Balthazar, sniffing deeply. "Prude."

Sam crossed his arms, stern face on. "So I may be, but there will be no orgies. _No_  orgies!" Sam said firmly, eyes nervously darting between the three supernatural creatures.

Crowley pouted, wriggling closer to the edge of the couch. "What about some roosting, bonding shit? I promise I'll keep my thrusting to myself. Mostly."

Sam glanced towards Gabriel who merely shrugged. "It would beat knitting, Samantha. What have you got to lose?"

"My dignity," Bobby muttered under his breath. Sam sighed heavily, rolling his eyes to the ceiling.

"Ok fine. We can try it. But if it gets… _weird,_ I'm leaving!"

The Winchester looked terrified as Gabriel grinned at him, Crowley's gleeful cackles loud in the small living room.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Swearing, fluff, too much snuggling or something, absolutely no knowledge of armor and shizzle, thats about it!

Dean could hear the rain lashing against the side of the house, its tinny echoes loud in the quiet of the panic room as he shuffled Cas over to the bed and sat him down. Judging from the sad slump of the angel's shoulders and the fact he wasn't swaying anymore, Cas had managed to sober himself up some. Handy trick that.

Even the creaking bed seemed to take pity on the angel, only squeaking slightly as Cas leaned forward, his forearms resting along the top of his thighs. Dean stood awkwardly in front of him, unsure of what to do or say. Whatever had happened up there hadn't been good, that at least was clear, but comforting wasn't exactly the hunter's strongpoint.

Cas stared at the floor, avoiding Dean's questioning gaze.

"Michael," he finally muttered, voice cracking. "It was Michael. All this time and I…I was such a  _fool._ "

Silently Dean moved closer, reaching out to tentatively touch the dark hair bowed before him. Shuddering, Cas reached back in return, hooking his fingers into the waistband of Dean's jeans and tugging him forward. Shaking arms wrapped around Dean's hips as the angel hid his face in Dean's stomach, and in reply the hunter ran his fingers through Cas's wild hair.

"God is dead," Cas mumbled thickly against his belly. "He has been since the beginning. Michael…Michael said so."

Dean forced himself to stay relaxed, continuing his gentle petting. "So what? It doesn't change anything, Cas."

"It changes  _everything!_ " Cas pulled his face away to look up fiercely, eyes glittering wetly. "I…Dean, I  _killed God_. My very existence is a slight against him. I am a walking, talking… _blasphemy_."

There was something he was missing here, but Dean couldn't find it in him to care too much about the fine print. Dean didn't care about what Michael said, or God, or even stupid devils who held grudges for way too long. The only thing important in this moment was Cas, and he was hurting.

Dean's hands slipped down to frame the angel's face, finger tips brushing against his slick cheekbones. "Stop. Cas, just stop."

Wide blue eyes locked onto his as Dean slowly knelt down between Cas's legs, and Dean dropped his hands to rub small comforting circles along the angel's knee.

"You aren't a…a  _blasphemy,_  Cas," Dean murmured. "You didn't kill God."

Cas leant forward, resting his forehead against Dean's as he breathed out shakily. "Everything…everything I knew or believed in…" He swallowed, eyes fluttering closed. "It was all a lie. Everything."

The resignation in his voice was heartbreaking. Firmly, Dean grabbed Cas's chin, tilting it upwards until the angel opened his eyes to look at him, their noses practically brushing.

"Is  _this_  a lie?" Dean asked quietly, giving Cas's chin a little shake. "Am  _I_  not worth believing in?

Cas cut him off with a desperate kiss that stole his breath away, lips sliding slickly across his. When the angel finally pulled away, he was shaking, pressing his forehead against Dean's again, eyes so bright in the dim light.

"Dean," he said quietly. "This is the one thing I will always know.  _You._ I will always believe in you."

Dean smiled weakly, running his fingers along Cas's jawline, thumb dragging across his stubble. "So God is dead." He shrugged slightly. "What does that change Cas?"

A tiny sound of protest rumbled in the angel's throat, and Dean kissed it away, chasing away the grief that threatened to break free with his lips and tongue. "It just means we've done a pretty damn good job ourselves," he mumbled against the parted lips beneath his. "Look I…I know what this must feel like. It's a shitty situation, this whole mess is. But…you made me feel like we can make it."

Cas's eyes were huge, deep pools of blue that threatened to pull him in and drown him completely. Dean still held the angel's chin in his hand and he tightened his grip along the rough jawline beneath his fingers. "Don't you take that away from me now, Cas. You said we'd make it. All of us. Together."

Cas nodded weakly, fingers twisting in the fabric of Dean's t-shirt. "I did. And I…I want to believe it."

"Then believe it," Dean murmured, leaning in to kiss him again. "Believe in  _us,_ Cas."

Shaking hands moved to clutch at his arms, and Dean wriggled closer on his knees, ignoring the dull ache in his joints from kneeling on the cold floor. Cas was breathing heavily, practically stealing the air from Dean's own lungs in the quiet of their own sanctuary.

"I love you," Cas admitted quietly, nudging his nose against Dean's. "I think I…always have, and I want you to know that whatever happens tomorrow…I always will. I will always believe in us. In this.  _Always._ "

Dean had never been good with words. But with Cas, he didn't have to be. The desparate press of lips to the angel's conveyed everything he wanted say. Things like  _love, need, want_  and  _forever._ And in that quiet room in the middle of the apocalypse, it was all they needed.

 

* * *

 

"This is so gay."

Sam stared forlornly at the ceiling, Gabriel a warm weight pressed up close against his side. The archangel was hugging him like a child would hug a teddy bear, his face snuggled into Sam's stomach like a cat.

"The best things usually are," Balthazar whispered, somewhere off to Sam's left.

Everyone had spread out pillows and blankets on the floor, then chosen a spot. Even Bobby had decided to disgruntledly give this weird angel thing a try, and Sam could hear his gruff amused chuckles off to his right. They had started out with no-one touching, but somehow everyone had gravitated towards Sam's large frame. A foot nudged against his thigh and Sam craned his head to see Crowley's shoulder disappear beneath a scratchy blanket. Gabriel had removed all his casts and the demon had been overjoyed to discover he was almost completely healed. Now the problem was getting the demon to _stay still_ for five seconds.

Apparently Crowley kicked Gabriel as well because the archangel squeaked slightly, raising his head long enough to glare at the moving lump. "Crowley, your feet are  _freezing."_

Crowley's messed up hair appeared as the demon popped his face free from his blanket. "Well  _excuse me,_ " he huffed, flopping back down. "This PG stuff is so boring. Can I least cop a feel off someone? A snog?  _Something?"_

Sam grinned so widely his cheeks hurt as Gabriel sighed, dropping his head back down and nuzzling his nose further into Sam's belly with a contented huff.

"Fine," the angel mumbled. "But do it  _quietly_."

"I can't believe this," Bobby muttered as with a cackle, Crowley dove beneath the blanket again. A quick glance revealed the old hunter was wedged between Fenrir and the moving lump that was Crowley. Fenrir seemed perfectly content to be the hunter's living pillow, and Bobby took another swig from his bottle of whiskey as he settled himself more comfortably against the wolf.

Crowley's head appeared again to shoot Bobby a grin. "Hang on there darling, I'll get to you in a minute."

Sam couldn't prevent the laugh bubbling out of him, even as the movement jostled Gabriel who shot him a half-hearted glare. Sam wriggled his feet happily, digging his toes into the warm, shaggy belly of Fenrir. "Come on guys,  _relax._ Just…enjoy the quiet."

The room lapsed into a comfortable silence, and Sam felt himself almost dozing off. Balthazar shifted, blankets rustling in the quiet as he rolled over.

"Hey, Gabriel," he murmured, snuggling more firmly into Fenrir's side. "Tell us a story."

Sam felt Gabriel shift against him, and for a moment thought he felt something soft and feathery trail along his arm. "What kind?"

Crowley had managed to wriggle his way over towards Bobby, much to the older man's dismay, plastering himself obnoxiously against Bobby's legs. The demon sighed happily, arching his back like a contented cat. "Something with lots of kinky shit."

Sam snorted, moving his hands from their lax position on his chest to gently rest on Gabriel's shoulders. "One where the good guys win," he suggested.

He felt Gabriel nod, rubbing his cheek slowly along the fabric of Sam's shirt. "Ok. Once upon a time, there were two extremely handsome men called Sam and Dean…"

"Don't forget Bobby," Crowley interrupted, leering up at a chuckling Bobby.

"-and their awesome, ruggedly good looking dad, Bobby."

"I like this story," Sam grinned, closing his eyes. Gabriel's arms tightened around him.

"Meanwhile, some kickass even  _better_ looking angels were being awesome somewhere else. As was an annoying demon who plays no part whatsoever in this story so we'll never speak of him again."

Gabriel's sudden yelp was hilarious as Crowley apparently prodded him hard in the ribs with a foot.

"I think you mispronounced: a demon who was the most gorgeous and kickass of all."

" _And a rather handsome wolf,"_  Fenrir added with an amused huff.

Gabriel rolled his eyes, wriggling his hips defiantly. " _Anyways_ , basically all these kickass amazing, beautiful people  _and animal,_ got together to form an even better kickass amazing evil fighting team."

Balthazar struggled up onto his elbows, peering around Fenrir's huge furry form. "What was their team name? All evil fighting kickasses have a team name."

Sam nodded knowledgably. "Yeah, like the Justice League, or the Avengers."

Gabriel paused for a moment, his fingers dancing along Sam's side. "Hope," the archangel finally said softly. "Their team name was hope. And they were like superheroes, saving the world and helping little old ladies across the street. There was-"

"Cranky Crowley!" Bobby interrupted, guffawing to himself as Crowley glared over at him.

"-and Badass Bobby!" Gabriel chirped back, smiling widely.

Crowley frowned to himself before snapping his fingers and shooting a smile over at Balthazar. "Can't forget  _Bodaciou_ s Balthazar."

Balthazar winked at him, before reaching down to ruffle the dark fur around him. "Or Ferocious Fenrir."

Fenrir raised his head, golden eyes relaxed and amused as he flicked one ear. " _Also, Celestial Castiel."_

"-and Dense Dean. Who were totally married," Gabriel snorted.

The room echoed with faint giggles as Sam mercilessly poked Gabriel's sides. "What about Greedy Gabriel?"

Gabriel was gasping as he tried to recover, slapping Sam's stomach weakly. "Tickled to…death by…Sassy Sam."

"And they were a family."

Everyone paused, craning their heads to look up at the tired looking angel in the doorway. Castiel looked down at them all with a quirk of his lips, Dean beside him. Dean crossed his arms, arching an eyebrow at Sam.

"Do I want to know what's going on here?" he asked. Sam smiled at his brother, jerking his head.

"We're having a supernatural slumber party. Hope you brought your pajamas."

Castiel moved further into the room, eyes trained on Gabriel. "How…how does the story end Gabriel?" he asked quietly.

Gabriel smiled, releasing Sam and offering his hand to his brother. Wordlessly, Castiel allowed himself to be drawn into their midst, everyone shuffling around to make room. Dean gave in with a huff as well, and ended up next to Sam, their arms brushing together as they exchanged disbelieving smiles that they were really in the middle of a supernatural dog pile. Castiel squeezed in between Gabriel and Crowley, Gabriel pressing his back against Sam's side as he wrapped his arms around his little brother.

"Does it matter?" Gabriel's voice was hushed as the group pressed in closer to each other. "They were together. And  _that's_  what mattered. Together, they could do anything."

Sam rubbed his fingers along Gabriel's back, feeling feathers part beneath his touch. In any other circumstance this would probably be really weird and creepy, but in their little room, everyone close and...well  _bonding_ , it felt right. It felt like...

Well. It felt like  _home._

* * *

 

Morning came too soon.

Gabriel just wanted to stay like this forever, surrounded by his oddball of a family. Castiel had fallen asleep tangled up in his arms, the seraph's hands buried in Gabriel's wings, tugging just shy of painful on his feathers. It made Gabriel's heart ache, how familiar the action was, and he just wanted to hide Castiel away, away from the battle that had to be fought, from the brother that they would have to face.

It just wasn't  _fair,_ dammit.

The sky was still overcast and glum when Raphael returned, appearing suddenly in the living room, accompanied by several grim faced and suit-clad others. The archangel carried with her gleaming metal armor, the kind Gabriel hadn't seen in close to a millennia, and he could only stare at the gleaming pile for a moment, recognizing each dent and ding in the metal. It brought back memories he had forgotten, things he had done, and made it all that much more real that he was about to do it all again. Raphael had simply plopped it into Gabriel's arms with a stern look, and he had managed a weak smile.

The other angels had their own armor parcels, and handed them to the Winchesters with barely a word. The humans blinked blearily down at the leather, and Gabriel had to suppress a laugh at how crazy Sam's hair looked. The Winchester's weren't exactly morning people, which amused the archangel to no end.

"What…what is this?" Sam asked, cautiously prodding the leather in front of him as Dean held his up to the light to frown at it.

Raphael glanced up from where she had started to help Balthazar into his own apparel. Heaven's armor was built from, what Gabriel affectionately called,  _celestial metal._  No-one actually knew what it was, a mixture of space rock and diamond some said, constructed long ago by an angel who was also long dead. Light to move in, but difficult to pierce, and pretty damn shiny to boot. Made you feel _sexy._

"Heavenly armor." Raphael said curtly, cinching Balthazar's chest piece in place. "It will protect you from most demonic weapons."

Dean held up a thigh piece, eyeing it incredulously. "You expect us to be able to move in this?"

Gabriel had to suppress a snort at that. The two looked so adorably perplexed at this odd technology, like it was something completely alien to them. He supposed it was, humans hadn't worn armor like that for centures, and the Winchester's loved their fashion too much to bother with petty things like  _protection._ Poor bastards.

Raphael rolled her eyes, and Gabriel felt a flash of pride she had picked up such a human gesture. "It is the lightest armor we have. You will still be able to move freely."

Bobby snorted, crossing his arms as he nudged his own pile with a foot. "I ain't gonna wear that. No damn way."

Raphael shrugged, moving onto the next piece of armor without looking up. "Then you will be killed immediately. Perhaps a vampire will tear your throat out, or a werewolf will disembowel you and feast upon your entrails. It shall a spectacular death I'm sure."

Sam shot Bobby a horrified look, and grumbling darkly, the old hunter collected the armor in his arms. "Fine. But don't expect me to be  _happy_  about it."

With a sigh, Gabriel started on his own. As he struggled with the clasps, Castiel stepped in, shooting him a small smile as he helped Gabriel pull on the soft leather that lay beneath the heavier metal pieces. The wings were the hardest to maneuver, and Gabriel winced slightly as some feathers were tugged. He hated armor. He hated battles. He hated…well anything to do with fighting actually.

Gabriel smiled half-heartedly, tapping a long ding that marred the metal of one shoulder. "Remember this one, kiddo?"

Castiel glanced at it briefly, shaking his head with a chuckle. "If I remember correctly, it was your own fault. Antagonizing the enemy with name calling is never a good idea."

Gabriel huffed to himself, wincing slightly as the straps tightened around his chest and arms. He felt confined, bound and restricted. "Yeah well, it's more fun that way."

Crowley had been watching Raphael, frowning as he watched her and her silent lackeys. "Why aren't you and your goons wearing any?"

Finished helping Balthazar, Raphael straightened. She beckoned to one of the silent angels nearby, and they brought her something wrapped in cloth. "We will be fighting in our true forms, demon. Shielding our vessels will not be necessary."

Crowley eyed her up and down as she approached. "So you're wearing armor… _inside_ your vessel? Well aren't you angels confusing."

Raphael glared down at him, before offering the cloth covered bundle to him. "I do not much care for you demon. But you are fighting with us, and are thus an invaluable ally. Therefore, I give unto you something I hope will keep you alive and fighting. For a small time at least."

Crowley batted his eyes at her as he took the bundle. "Aww I didn't know you  _cared._ "

Any other smart remarks he had been about to make were cut short as he unwrapped the bundle. Gabriel craned his neck to see what had the demon so speechless, and whistled as he spotted the dark stiff material. "Haven't seen armor like that since…well. It's been a while."

Demonic armor, the kind worn by Azazel so very long ago. Gabriel knew from experience how tough the damn stuff was, rumored to have been made from dragon skin or something. Angel blades couldn't pierce it, at least not on the first thrust.

Crowley nodded to Raphael, oddly humble and voice squeaky. "Uh…thanks."

Raphael turned away to look at Gabriel, the last piece of his own armor clicking into place beneath Castiel's agile fingers. "Brother, I ask you to reconsider. Fighting within your vessel…you will be weaker."

Gabriel shrugged offhandedly, adjusting his wings with a wince. "This is my true form now, Raphael. I've been like this for so long I don't know anything else. This  _is_  my body."

Raphael sighed, and he could see the worry in her eyes. "Then for Castiel's sake. The seraph insists to do the same as you."

Castiel pulled away from Gabriel to smile at his sister. His black wings reached out to brush against hers, and Raphael tucked her own around his needily. "Gabriel has little to do with my decision. This body was my home when I had none." He glanced over at Dean who was still struggling to figure out how his armor worked, Sam rather unhelpfully assisting him with deep laughs. "The humans have no other form. I shall fight with them.  _As_  them."

Raphael sighed heavily. "Very well, Castiel. I will respect your decision. However I must insist upon you wearing this." An angel approached her, a different assortment of armor in his arms. The metal was silver with gold edging, gleaming so brightly it almost appeared that flames slid across it. A lion roared its defiance across the breastplate as Raphael took it, her fingers tracing its form reverently. Gabriel knew the lion well, had watched it in battle, seen its ferocity and beauty. Seen it bathed in the blood of his siblings, and also seen it defeat the impossible.

Raphael held the armor carefully in her arms, offering it to Castiel like a holy man offers his prayers. "May you wear this proudly Castiel, brother."

Castiel was already backing away, shaking his head furiously as his wings spasmed. "No. No, I cannot."

Dean was at his side in a blink, fierce and protective. "What's that?"

Balthazar looked subdued, eyes glued on the armor still in Raphael's arms. "That belongs to an archangel, Raphael," he said lowly.

To her credit, Raphael didn't look ruffled, despite how hard it must be for her to admit. "He is an archangel no longer," she said firmly. "He refuses to fight. Castiel, you are more an angel than he. You are…" She took a deep breath, her shoulders squaring as her wings puffed with pride. "You are more deserving of this armor than he."

Castiel was still shaking his head, eyes wide. "I cannot!" he said helplessly. "I  _will not_. It is not my place, such a thing is surely…blasphemy…"

"Hey, hey," Gabriel said soothingly, moving closer. "You  _can_ , little bro." Castiel's eyes were panicked as he turned to his brother, and Gabriel ruffled his wings. "Kiddo, this is a war we're staggering into. Against the biggest dick of dicks imagineable."

Crowley snorted at that, sliding a dark red gauntlet up one arm. "Bloody right. And we don't have a whole lot goin' for us."

Gabriel ignored him, touching Castiel's arm as he wrapped his wings closer. "But we have you," he said quietly. " _You're_ what we're really fighting for. We're not as noble as you little brother, humans just confuse us most of the time, and a lot of us don't see the point in fighting for them."

Balthazar stepped closer, dipping his head respectfully, though as his eyes danced with cheerful humor. "But we'll fight for you. Because _you_ think they're worth saving. You're our Michael now Cassie, so wear the damn armor and let's go kick some arse yeah?"

Castiel smiled weakly. "I have no choice in this I take it?"

Balthazar slapped him on the shoulder playfully. "None whatsoever. Besides, you'll look badass. Your boyfriend here will cream his pants when he sees you in it."

Dean's outraged splutters were almost as hilarious as the shade of red Castiel went as Gabriel laughed uproarously. With a sigh and shake of her head, Raphael glanced over at a sniggering Sam.

"I know you have stated your wish to join us, but I will ask you again. Are you certain? This is not a fight you can win. You will most likely die."

Sam straightened, suddenly serious. He didn't even have to look at Dean, both Winchesters knew what they were getting into and why. "We're fighting. End of story."

Raphael nodded curtly, obviously expecting the answer. "Very well. Then I give you both angelic blades. You were intended as vessels, and as such can hold our weapons."

Two blades, identical to the one Gabriel could feel resting along his forearm out of sight, materialized in her hands. She handed one to Sam, and he tested the weight of the weapon in his hand, slicing the air in front of him. Dean took his, testing the sharp tip with his thumb.

"Wow we really are going all medieval here aren't we?" he remarked. "What about guns and holy water?"

Bobby perked up at that. "I aint goin' nowhere without my shotguns."

Raphael shook her head. "Such things will do you no good. Angelic weapons will suffice."

Bobby crossed his arms sullenly, glaring at the archangel hard enough to do damage. "Like hell. I'm taking my guns."

Raphael seemed to know she would be fighting a losing battle if she tried to tell him no again. Instead she chose to ignore that, offering the old hunter a different looking blade. It was smaller than the ones given to the Winchesters, but wickedly curved and sharp. "Robert, you are not an intended angelic vessel and as such, cannot wield our blades. I do however, give you this. It is a holy blade of silver."

Bobby took it reluctantly. "Thanks. I think."

The room was quiet as armor was donned and weapons prepared. Gabriel saw Bobby and Dean hide away several revolvers and ammo down the front of their armor and had to chuckle, but didn't stop them. It took several tries to get Sam's freakishly large frame into his gear, but they managed it between three of them, with Crowley looking on and laughing.

Gabriel tried to commit the moment to memory. He wanted to savor it, the moment where they were all together, all alive. And though he knew God was dead, it didn't stop him from silently sending up a prayer.  _Let them live. Let them survive this. Please._

But the reality of it had to come crashing down sooner or later. It was time to leave.

He could sense the fear and unease in the humans, but Gabriel could only admire them for it. They had a choice, they could remain and leave the fighting to the angels, but they  _chose_ to fight. They were going to witness things never meant for human eyes, terrifying and awful things. Yet they would still do it. Because they were going to save the world. That's what they  _did._

Raphael offered her hand to Bobby, who was still muttering to himself grumpily and adjusting the leather that encased him. He took it, shooting a half-hearted glare at Crowley as the demon grabbed the hunter's arm, winking at him. Dean held onto Castiel and Balthazar, as Gabriel offered his arm to Sam. Sam was trembling minutely, adrenaline beginning to course through his veins at the thought of what might await them, and Gabriel brushed his wings along Sam's back and shoulders comfortingly.

"To Bethlehem, brothers," Raphael said grimly. "Our army awaits our arrival."


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Swearing, blasphemy that might offend all religions everywhere, kind of OC'

Fenrir did not much care for flying.

It took three angels to heft the large wolf up, a fourth to help carry him as they took to the sky. The wolf tried not to look down, but it was difficult. He longed for the feel of earth beneath his paws, rather than the wind whipping through his fur, and he stifled a wretch as his stomach roiled. It was a highly undignified experience, and he let his handlers know it; growling deeply and snapping irritably if they dared ask him  _how he was doing._

The desert plain they finally landed on was dry and cool; night had just fallen. It had often confused Fenrir, how one place may have day, and another night, but for this once he was thankful. Heat was not a concept he enjoyed, and the prospect of having to do battle in a desert had… _worried_ him somewhat.

He shook himself free from the angels, claws digging into the cracked earth as he stretched his thick neck. The familiar scents of human assailed his nose and Fenrir grunted happily as he noticed the others had made it in one piece as well, though Robert Singer appeared rather green.

Stretched in front of them, stood as stiffly as statues, a line of angels had already gathered. Each was silent and grim faced as they gazed as one towards the horizon, at the shimmering wall of magic they would soon have to breach. Fenrir inhaled deeply, flicking his ears forward as he closed his eyes. Beyond the barrier the angels called the Veil, he could hear and smell a great many abominations. The sharp tang of blood was heavy in the air, wafting on the smoky breeze from the ruins of a once proud human city.

The Nordic God grinned to himself as he opened his eyes, claws digging furrows into the dirt expectantly. Many would die beneath his fangs this night.

Castiel drew in a startled breath, drawing the wolf's attention. The angel was an impressive sight; the armor he wore was unlike any Fenrir had ever seen, fit for a king. The metal gleamed like a polished sheet of glass, the lion upon his breast poised and ready for battle. Gone was the quiet angel he had known, and in its place was a leader, a general that would lead an army who would follow him to whatever end. An alpha Fenrir was proud to follow.

"Bethlehem it…it lies in ruins."

Castiel's voice was breathless, disbelieving, and Gabriel moved to stand beside him, his own gleaming armor dull in comparison.

"Cowards," he growled. "Slaughtered them all to feed upon, then set the place ablaze just for kicks."

Gabriel gazed towards the Veil, towards the dark shadows beyond it, which howled and screeched in the night. Fenrir trotted over, pressing himself up against the archangel's side, offering and taking comfort that only his Father had been able to give.

Fenrir had spent many years in the Northern wastes after Father left Asgard, running with his packs. He had many sons and daughters who lived wild and free in the northern forests, though unlike their father, they could not speak; not in the tongue of men at least. They were wolves, simple and pure, and had no worries beyond their fear of man.

Fenrir had reveled in every new litter of squirming fat pups, watching their playful fighting as they flashed their tiny teeth, nipping at his tail and sides. He had mourned their mortality, wept bitter tears for every pup born dead, every wolf killed by human hand. Howled his curses to the stars as famine and disease stole from him many, lamented how some must pass into the dark night, frail and old.

He had danced under the moonlight, head held high and proud as a beautiful siren brushed alongside him, her golden eyes bright with the promise of life she would soon carry within her. He had lived as a wolf, and it had been enough.

But Fenrir was a God.

Seasons changed, herds came and went, his children lived and died…yet he did not. His paws were destined to tread a different path, and it had taken the Norse God many years to accept such a thing. A greater purpose was waiting for him, and he had hidden from it, hiding in the shadows of his kingdom, amongst his ancient forests and snow.

Yet here he now stood, and that greater purpose was staring him down to oblivion, with sharp teeth set in a glistening maw. It would not show him mercy. It did not care about his wants and dreams, or the legacy he had hoped to leave behind. It cared for nothing but death and destruction, and sought to destroy him.

Fenrir welcomed it.

Destiny was as fickle as a bitch in heat, and the battle it had chosen for him was one that could not be won. This did not worry Fenrir unduly, death did not frighten him. But it worried the others; he could see the minute trembling of the gathered angels' wings, Castiel's deep breaths and wide eyes, Gabriel's nervous fidgeting. They were outnumbered. There were only five score angels, if that. Time had not been kind to the creatures, and their number was few.

Yet they stood firm. Like Fenrir, they had spent many years avoiding their purpose, preferring a life that was easy, carefree. They could have continued such a life if they so chose, but they too heard the siren call of destiny, and they had heeded it. They would see the battle through to the last angel, to its bloody, inevitable end.

It made him proud to stand with them, brothers and sisters in arms.

At first, Fenrir had been doubtful. He had heard of Lucifer's ascension before Gabriel told them, and Gods help him the wolf had been _glad._ For too long man had been killing his children, torturing his pups and defiling his forests. They came with guns, axes and dynamite. They brought their foul smells and chemicals that made the trees wither, and the deer leave. Lucifer wanted mankind gone, and so did Fenrir.

It had been his Father's return to Asgard that had made him pause. Loki, Gabriel, whatever name he so desired to call himself, was his maker. His creator. His God. Fenrir would do anything his Father asked of him, even fight Lucifer. Yet, his Father asked for nothing. It was the other,  _Castiel._ Castiel was the one who fought for the humans, whose voice was the loudest. Fenrir was confused, curious even. He remained in the shadows, following the angels back to their humans, perplexed that not only his Father was not as he appeared to be but…he had a  _family_ as well _._ Castiel was…was his  _son_  in a way Fenrir could never be.

Jealousy is not an emotion wolves understand, but Fenrir felt it. For a brief moment the giant wolf wanted nothing more than to sink his fangs into the soft pale column of the angel's throat, to rip and tear until there was nothing left of this Castiel, and he was but a memory.

But then, Fenrir truly  _watched._ He saw his Father, his God, look to Castiel for guidance. He watched as three humans,  _hunters_ , strove to save a world that did not even know of their existence. They were not cruel, or vicious, they were…good. Two brothers, whose blood bond was so strong it could never be broken, had sacrificed much for the world.  _Fenrir's_ world as much as theirs. An old hunter, with so much death in his past, still opened his home to the angels, and after a while a demon as well.

Fenrir watched as Castiel loved the human Dean. Human mating was still a mystery to him, full of far too much gasping and whining for his tastes, but the wolf could see how fiercely the angel loved. How desperately the human needed. It was a profound bond the two shared, something that transcended the word love itself.

It was such a family his Father had yearned for, perhaps even why he had created Fenrir at all, and the wolf vowed to protect it. To do all in his power to save such a family. So he joined them, helped rescue Gabriel, fought the fire hound. But the wolf had also found something along the way, something he himself had not expected.

They had begun to become his family too.

Fenrir found himself curling close to Sam as the human read, resting his head in the boy's lap and listening to the steady thump of that mortal heart as the hunter read through ancient texts. Sam's scent reminded him of times long gone, of warmth and comfort he had once found in Asgard, before running wild in the forests. Sam's long fingers would stroke along the wolf's brow, behind his ears and down his cheeks, and Fenrir could not think of a better heaven.

He found himself tugging playfully on Dean's jeans, worrying the fabric from side to side in an attempt to goad the human into play, but always making sure his teeth were gentle, his movements soft. Dean knew where to scratch, where to tug, and Fenrir would perplexedly find himself on his back, legs twitching furiously as the human laughed, running ticklish fingers through the thick fur of his belly.

He offered comfort to Crowley, sitting with the demon as his wounds healed, ignoring the thick scent of sulfur as the demon told him wild tales with lewd conclusions. Balthazar would join them, and the wolf could not remember the last time he had laughed so hard, shaking the bed with his weight as gruff barks were forced from his lungs. Fenrir did not have much knowledge of demons, but if most were as Crowley, perhaps hell was not as bad as humans made it seem.

He spent lazy afternoons dozing at Roberts's feet, not minding when the hunter spoke to him as a Master does to his hound, gruff voice loud in the quiet, but full of fondness. It seemed the hunter had no pups of his own, but Fenrir recognized the look in those tired eyes as he gazed at the Winchesters, the smile he gave them when their backs were turned. It was a look only fathers knew, and reminded the wolf so strongly of his own, that he could not help but love the man immediately.

And Castiel. Uncle. Brother. Fenrir saw in the angel, much of himself. Gabriel had raised them both, and as such, Fenrir looked upon the angel as a den-brother. Brothers not in blood, but in spirit. Fenrir loved him as fiercely as the wolf knew how, longed for the day when they were both free to run the wilds together, for the day when Fenrir could show him the true meaning of  _freedom_. There were so many things to show him; the warmth of a den in deep winter, the first breath of a newborn pup, yelping its displeasure into the new cold world it found itself in, the stars above and the earth below as the wind ruffled dense fur, running through ancient forests and untamed plains.

Considering the future that lay ahead of both of them, such things were foolish to hope for, but Fenrir dreamt of them all the same.

It seemed he had allowed himself to be domesticated, and there was no other way he would wish it. He could still hear the call of the wild; tall forests that echoed with song, crisp snow that crunched under paw. Endless herds of deer that awaited his powerful jaws, the seductive song of a silver furred beauty under the glorious night sky. But the call was distant; it knew Fenrir would not return, that his place was here, on a dusty battlefield in the place the Christ-child was born. His place was alongside the angels, alongside his Father, his Brother, and those he could proudly call, his  _family._

The forest knew this, and it sang to him a sad farewell.

A hoarse cry echoed across the empty abyss of what would soon be a celestial battlefield, and the forest abruptly fell silent. Fenrir looked towards the Veil, towards the dark stain on the horizon, hackles rising as he bared his teeth. The fire hound. It called to him, taunting and arrogant, confident in its assured victory as its fellow monsters bayed their pleasure.

The beast would be sorely disappointed however; it would not best him again.

Fenrir took a step forward, shoulders stiff and head high as he howled out his own challenge, mouth stretched wide and chest expanded. His voice carried over the distant roars and screeches, slicing through the charred remains of Bethlehem, and for a moment, the monstrous chorus fell silent.

He felt fingers ruffle his fur fondly, and Fenrir glanced up into the proud eyes of his Father. It was difficult for Fenrir to call him anything but that, though he knew he should call the angel by his true name.  _Gabriel._

Fenrir thought it an odd name for such a bright spirit. Even Loki had never suited Father; he was his own entity, a whirlwind of color and life that tore through so many lives, leaving behind many a broken heart. He was a Trickster, a creature of curiosity and fun. To think of him as an angel…an  _archangel…_ it was odd. Fenrir had only ever known him as Father.

Huffing, Fenrir pressed his head more firmly into Gabriel's side, narrowing his eyes on the horizon. They were outnumbered. The monsters knew their advantage, and renewed their bellowing, screamed it into the night sky, baying out their bloodlust. They knew they would spill blood before the dawn.

Fenrir would kill all that dared try.

 

* * *

 

Gabriel swallowed hard as he looked out at the Veil. Lucifer's army was vast, so much bigger than the tiny amount of angels that had gathered. Even with two archangels it would be a bloodbath. There was no way they could win this.

Fenrir was pressed up against his side, growling low in his chest. That pup had never been afraid of anything, and Gabriel twisted his fingers in the thick black fur of Fenrir's neck. What he wouldn't give to have Fenrir back home in his forests, not having to fight a stupid battle that wasn't his to fight.

Castiel squared his shoulders, and Gabriel dragged his concentration back to his little brother. He never thought he'd see the day, but the seraph was a leader. He looked every inch the archangel Michael used to be, beautiful and fierce. Judging by the way Dean was having trouble keeping his eyes off him, Gabriel wasn't the only one who noticed. Or maybe it was because the human was beginning to catch glimpses of them now, shadows of wings and their true faces. Either way, Dean-o was going to need a drool cup the way he was going.

Raphael was just itching to get in there, he could tell. She stood at Castiel's left, body stiff and calm, but her wings were a flurry of motion, betraying her excitement at the upcoming battle.

"We are outnumbered," she said manner of factly. "But what we lack in number, we shall rectify with holy wrath."

Gabriel smiled weakly at that. "Oh yeah, I can see them shaking in their little monster boots now."

He could feel the earth shaking with the movement of hundreds,  _thousands_ even; all monsters, all deadly and  _all_  evil. But no matter what, they could not be allowed to breach heaven. This was the front line, and if it broke, then all was lost.

"Alright then. Let's get this show on the road," Gabriel said grimly.

A lone horn suddenly sounded over the horrible din, drowning out the monstrous bellows. Gabriel turned his head towards the sound as the angels behind glanced at one another in confusion.

Raphael peered around Castiel towards the dark dust plain beyond them. "What in the name of…"

From the darkness, came the sound of marching, the creaking of armor and clanking of weapons. Fenrir moved away from Gabriel, head low and sniffing deeply.

" _Many approach,"_  the wolf growled. " _Many feet and many smells."_

Gabriel swallowed nervously, his blade sliding free from its invisible restraints. The metal felt cold in his fingers, an extensions of himself he had not touched for centuries. "Friend or foe?"

Fenrir paused for a moment, and the assembled group held their breath, fearing the worst. Suddenly jerking his head up, Fenrir barked happily, tail whipping back and forth viciously.

Out of the night came an army. Neither angel, human or monster, some walked, others rode in gold and silver chariots of fire and ice. Some were smaller than a mouse, with gossamer wings that glowed in the dark, others were taller than houses, huge lumbering creatures leaving behind trails of crumbling rock. In front of them strode two figures, one man and one woman, both clad in leather and fur; ancient armor that only those from the North wore.

The Gods had come.

They came, Gods of old, Gods of present, even those that man had yet to believe in. They had heeded the call to arms, and Gabriel could only gawk in disbelief at them all. The woman taking large assured strides out front smiled, and Gabriel felt weak in the knees at the sight of her. Fenrir was already bounding towards her, tongue lolling from his open jaws as his paws pounded against the earth.

" _Sister!"_  he barked, narrowly avoiding barreling into her legs. Hel, daughter of Loki and ruler of the Nordic underworld, laughed, throwing her arms around his shaggy neck and hugging him fiercely.

"Fenrir, dearest brother!"

Gabriel numbly found his feet carrying him towards her, eyes tracing her face. He had not seen Hel for a long,  _long_ time, and he scarcely recognized her. Her black hair was still as wild as ever, giving the God the appearance of having just rolled out of bed, her ebony eyes demonic in appearance. Her features were considered too sharp, too drawn to be considered beautiful in the traditional sense, but Gabriel had always thought of her as such. Hel was the most serious of his children, but had a tongue that could slice you to ribbons. Ruling the Nordic underworld had suited her, and she rarely left her halls in Niflheim.

"Father," she greeted him, eyes glittering with joy as she released Fenrir. "It does my heart good to see you. It has been far too long since you graced my halls with your dry wit."

Gabriel shook himself, suddenly intensely self-conscious of what he must look like, dressed in armor and wings visible. He folded them against his back, trying to hide them as much as possible.

"I uh…the same to you, daughter."

His pagan daughter smiled, sweeping forward to hug him, her armor creaking against his. She pulled away, reaching out to touch his feathers curiously. "I must admit, when Odin told me your true identity I may have laughed a little."

Gabriel chuckled, tweaking one wild tendril of her black hair. "Yeah…I did too to be honest."

The man beside her guffawed loudly, clapping one large hand to Gabriel's shoulder as his one eye glittered. Odin. His golden spear was slung across his back, his two ravens circling the sky above him.

"Angel or not, you were my son for many a season, so many I dare not count. We are here to aid you…Gabriel."

He was feeling a little faint headed. "Thank you. I…I don't…uh…I don't know what to say."

Death materialized beside them, dressed in his usual suit and cane. "A thank you for the instigator would be nice."

Odin snorted, cracking his shoulders. "I was already gathering them when  _you_ appeared, Death. You can't claim full glory of the deed."

Hel rolled her eyes, reaching back over to tug on Fenrir's ear playfully. "Jörmungandr sends his regards, father. He would have joined us in human form if able, but the hell wench Eve has released several Leviathans of the deep. He has stayed to do battle with them, but fear not; knowing my brother, victory is no doubt assured."

The monsters had resumed their bellowing. Odin glanced towards the dark horizon, taking a deep breath through his nose. "Ah, it is a good day for battle. Glory awaits us."

A huge bearded man wrapped in a gold toga pushed through the crowd, striding over to them with quick arrogant steps. Strapped to his back he carried many lightning shaped blades, and a leafy golden circlet was nestled in his dark hair. "If Lucifer thinks he can defeat us with such an army, he is more a fool than I thought," he sniffed, gesturing towards the Veil. "Pathetic."

Odin sighed impatiently, his one eye rolling. "Zeus, do not underestimate the Fallen One. Our powers have always paled before the angels. A fallen one is only more dangerous."

"Don't talk to me like that, you wretched Nord!" Zeus, head of the Greek gods growled, large corded muscles tightening in his arms as his hands balled into fists. "I was fighting  _titans_ when you were still just an  _idea_ at the bottom of a glass of wine!"

Odin waved him away dismissively. "I'm surprised you found the time, between buggering swans and raping cows."

Zeus's eyes were liquid lightning as he glared at his fellow deity. "I'll have you know,  _Viking_ , it was  _I_ who was the swan and cow."

Odin didn't look too impressed. "Well that just makes it more perverse."

" _Gentlemen,"_  a smoky voice interrupted. "This is hardly productive."

A dark skinned and beautiful woman emerged from the crowd. Her leather armor was…revealing at best, two curved and wicked blades strapped to her hips. Gabriel knew from experience there were eight more she held in her other hands.

"Kali," the archangel grinned. "Glad you could make it, gorgeous."

The Hindu goddess glanced over at him, arching one slim eyebrow. "Don't push your luck, Trickster. I'm here for the battle. I will deal with your deliberate concealment of your true identity, later."

Gabriel winked at her, smiling. "It's a date then."

Death coughed politely, drawing their attention back to the matter at hand. The other three horsemen had joined their brother, War practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. Death glanced over towards Castiel, noting the armor with emotionless eyes.

"Castiel. I believe any good battle is usually begun with a rousing speech," he drawled. "If you please."

Castiel shot the horseman a questioning look. "Me? But surely Raphael…"

He trailed off as Raphael rested a hand on his arm, smiling slightly. "Let it be you, brother. I was never good at inspiring troops."

Castiel looked nervous as she led him back towards the others. "But…but what shall I say? Try not to die? That hardly seems suitable."

Gabriel laughed, wings shivering in delight. "Oh please do!"

Raphael rolled her eyes good naturedly. "Tell them what is in your heart, Castiel. Yours is so vast, I am sure there are encouraging words within."

The Gods all moved to stand behind the line of angels. The three angels watched them, watched as deities and angels shared smiles, handshakes and greetings. Their number was still few compared to what Lucifer must command, but now at least they had a chance. They could survive this.

Gabriel resumed his spot at Castiel's right, Raphael on his left as the angel turned to address his odd army. The Winchesters, Bobby, Balthazar and Crowley all stood out front, looking so small at the head of such an army, and Gabriel smiled at them, shooting a wink at Sam who looked about to go into cardiac arrest at all the research dreams coming true in front of him. Castiel seemed to take strength from their presence, looking to Dean who nodded at him.

Taking a deep breath, Castiel spread his wings, drawing the attention of the creatures before him.

"Brothers, sisters, Gods and friends…today I call you all family," Castiel began. "We stand today against a great evil, an evil that seeks to destroy everything we hold dear. Men, angel and god alike, Lucifer seeks to destroy us all. And we have all risen up to take arms against him."

The seraph paused, scanning the sea of faces turned towards him, and Gabriel felt his chest swell with pride at how much his little fledgling had grown.

"We all come from different paths of life. Yet I do not see angels, or Gods, or humans before me. I see before me a family, here in defiance of the evil that seeks to oppress and destroy us. You have come to fight for freedom, for free will, and for that, I am grateful and forever indebted to you."

There were a few gruff bellows of agreement from the Nords, and Gabriel shot a fond smile at them, chuckling as he noticed Hel out front, swinging a battle axe over her head enthusiastically. Their excitement for battle was infectious, bleeding into the angels in front of them, wings beginning to flap and puff.

Castiel could sense it, and emboldened, he stepped forward, black wings jerking with each word. "A day may come when mankind will fall. When the angels in heaven will fall silent, and the Gods will disappear into obscurity…but it is not this day. We will not  _allow it!_ "

The cheers were deafening, feet stomping the ground as the Gods worked themselves into a battle frenzy. A forest God, almost as old as Gabriel was, stomped its hooves, bellowing out a deep battle cry, antlers swinging.

Hope had been ignited.

Castiel was blinding, his grace beginning to shine through his vessel. "This day we fight! Today, we stand  _united_ , a force greater than Lucifer could ever command!"

Death was smiling, shaking his head in disbelief as the Gods at his back roared out their agreement, their allegiance, the earth shaking. War was a giddy child beside his brother, eyes glowing with the fires of his namesake as he pumped a fist in the air, Pestilence struggling to keep him from charging headlong ahead.

Even the others seemed caught up in it, Sam grinning widely as he whooped, Balthazar's wings beating the air and Bobby nodding proudly as Crowley grinned with too sharp teeth. Gabriel could see the darkness of the demons true face, eyes tingeing red. Fenrir barked his rage into the night air, flecks of white spittle dripping from his maw as he snapped at the air, lunging forward again and again.

It was Dean who seemed relatively unaffected, and as the bellows died down, he took a step forward, raising his borrowed blade fearlessly towards the angel.

"We'll follow you, Cas," the human said firmly, voice cutting through the night. "To the end."

" _To the end!"_

The words were echoed back in such a loud roar Gabriel almost had to cover his ears. Castiel was smiling, but his eyes were only on Dean. "To the end."


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Swearing, blasphemy, VIOLENCE, character deaths (OCs), DEATH DEATH EVERYWHERE.

Dean had been expecting Satan to give them a bad guy monologue. Maybe he'd wait just beyond the Vail, sneering and jeering at them about how weak and pathetic they were. Maybe even try to weasel his way into Cas's good graces with a peace offering or something.

But it seemed Lucifer had dropped the coy act. It was winner takes all now, and Lucifer wanted it  _all_. Period. The space beyond the Veil's walls wasn't that large, only a few miles across, and they charged headlong into it, voices bellowing and feet pounding. There was no space for advanced war tactics, and both sides knew it; pinning it all on a who-can-whack-who the quickest and hardest.

The moment they crossed the barrier, the angels shed their vessels; tucking them away somewhere magical that Dean really didn't want to think about. Cas had briefly explained that the Veil allowed them to fight in their true forms, but the magic there dampened their forms; hence why Dean could look at them and still own lovely eyeballs. It stung to look at them too long though, damn but they were _bright._  The humans were last to enter the Veil (not his choice, but Cas had forced him), and had gotten to witness the initial clash of light on dark, yin against yang and it was…well it was indescribable. Something the human mind hadn't been designed to handle all at once, and Dean took refuge in reflex and instinct. It was just another hunt, he could do this as long as he just thought of it as a hunt.

Raphael was a blinding being of light at the head of them all, a valkyrie of holy rage, inspiring them forward. Dean could see her pristine white wings stretched wide, two glowing eyes set in a humanoid face, but then she was gone; disappearing into the fray.

And Cas well…Dean tried to engrain the image of the angel in his brain forever. Whereas Raphael took to the sky to rally the angels, Cas stayed marching on the ground ahead of the Gods. Dean had always thought that all the angels would have similar white wings; all identical little clones.

They weren't.

Each angel's wings were colorful, beautiful in their variety. But the most beautiful of all, were Cas's. Of course they were, he didn't know why he thought it would be any different. The angel's wings a deep rich black that just  _begged_ for Dean to touch them; each feather shimmering with a blue hue, like a raven. The tips of his long flight feathers were charred and singed, the delicate barbs melted and twisted, and with a guilty jolt, Dean realized it was probably from his decent into hell. For  _him._ Cas's eyes glowed with an iridescent blue hue as he turned to rally the troops, "a reflection of the grace within", Balthazar had whispered quietly. Where Raphael was their light of battle, Cas was their beacon of hope as he led them into the Veil itself, their badass General who looked hotter than the sun.

God Dean had it bad.

Gabriel was pretty awesome too. He sported large speckled brown and white wings, like a barn owl. He marched close to Cas, and the archangel's wings brushing the younger angel's frequently. His usual amber eyes had turned to molten gold, beautiful and terrible to behold, and Dean had shoved his brother none-too gently forward several times as Sam paused to gawk along the way.

As soon as the first wave of monsters hit, Bobby, Sam and Dean formed a triangle, backs pressed together. Between them, they managed to create a windmill effect, cutting down the monsters that broke through the angels and Gods at the front. It had been working pretty well for them actually.

"Lovely day for a battle don't you think?" Balthazar asked cheerfully as he moved by; an orc-like creature in a headlock. His auburn wings were tucked tightly against his back, armor already looking scuffed.

Dean was about to reply when a loud roar ripped across the sky. The hunter watched in horrified awe as- _shit they really were_   _dragons-_ swooped down from the sky, screaming flames into the ranks of good guys below.

"Shit! We'll be barbequed!" Dean shouted over the roars, panicked. Balthazar smiled at him, twisting his arms hard and killing the creature in his grasp.

"Don't get your panties in a twist. We have our own flying tanks."

Sure enough, shapes were pushing off from the ground further up ahead, huge wings beating the air as the creatures screamed up at the dragons in reply. Dean squinted, trying to pick out what the hell they were, and Sam glanced up, following Dean's gaze.

"Griffons!" he shouted in explanation, a demon screeching into explosive shards of black shadow as he plunged his borrowed blade into its chest.

The griffons, only a quarter the size of the reptilian behemoths, attacked the dragons with no fear, raking the scaly hides before them with piercing talons and snapping with their razor sharp beaks. Their feline back legs kicked viciously as they latched on, and the dragons tilted drunkenly in the sky as they attempted to get the creatures off. Other griffons attacked the wings, beaks ripping and tearing at the dragons' leathery wings, forcing them away from the battle towards calmer airs.

Dean breathed a sigh of relief, but it was short-lived. Back on the ground things weren't any less weird or less dangerous. A vampire floated by, and Dean had to do a double take. A swarm of tiny…what could only be  _faeries_ had latched onto the creature, pulling on his hair and face. Two had hoisted him up by the nose, and the vampire flailed unhappily as the glowing little people pulled him along, giggling in high pitched voices.

This was probably the oddest  _and_ most terrifying event of his life. Only  _he_ would be fighting for his life and the world, yet see  _faeries_.

Dean shook himself, concentrating on cutting down whatever came at him; slicing and stabbing, keeping his back tight to Sam's. Both arms ached, muscles unused to holding a blade, and he gritted his teeth as a wedingo came barreling at him. It screeched hoarsely as he thrust his blade up; spearing it through the jugular. A hot splash of blood gushed over his fist and he grimaced, yanking his blade free with a squelch. The thing fell to the ground with a satisfying splat.

Dean glanced appreciatively at the angel blade, whilstling lowly. "Dude these things are  _awesome._ They kill everything! I'm totally keeping a hold of this if we survi-"

An arachne had taken the dead wendigo's place, scurrying low and close to the ground, pincers snapping. With a yelp, Dean planted his boot in the middle of its disgusting face. It whined, and he did it again; scowling as his foot sank deeper into it's now twitching body.

Sam's hoarse shout forced him around. Sam's face was spattered with blood, smudged along his forehead and sliding slickly down his cheek. For a moment Dean panicked, irrationally reminded of a time when Sam used to gorge himself on the same demonic fluids.

Then he remembered where they were. Oh right. Fighting, duh.

A weird snot creature was trying to grab his little brother, and Sam was backing away, the angel blade only sinking ineffectively into the pus-like substance that made up its skin.

"Little help here Dean?" Sam's voice was high and desperate, and Dean's instincts kicked in at the tremor of fear in his brother's voice. Kicking the dead arachne away from him, he advanced towards the snot-machine.

"Hey Slimer!" he challenged, and the creature turned slowly towards him, dripping sluggishly. "Yeah I'm talking to  _you_  fugly!"

The thing groaned at him, frigging  _groaned_ like he was some sort of dessert on legs, shifting its slimy course from Sam towards him. He backed away from it, suddenly very aware that he hadn't really thought beyond getting its attention.

"Uh…Sammy? Little help?"

Sam gave him a bitch face worthy of song.

A pistol blast ricocheted through the air, and the slime monster paused, looking down to study the sudden hole in its chest curiously. The slime around the hole was hardening, stiffening in jagged cracks and the creature groaned again. Before Dean's eyes, it turned into a stiff snot statue, the weight of it then collapsing in on itself with dusty squelch.

"Oh that's not right," Sam muttered, nose wrinkling. Bobby grinned wildly, waving his pistol triumphantly in the air as he jogged over.

"Silver bullets. Kills pretty much anything, includin' blobs. Apparently."

The rest of his gloating was cut off as a hobgoblin lunged at him, forcing the hunter back into the fighting. Dean grinned at his brother, wiping second hand slime from his face.

"Glad to see someone is enjoying themselves."

 

* * *

 

War was in his element.

 _This_ is what it was all about! This was a glorious symphony of death, a titanic clash of the biggest forces in the universe, and he was _right in the middle of it_.

Good versus evil.

Light versus dark.

Godzilla versus that little nerdy dude that was in the Producers.

He wanted nothing more than to be able to just sit on the sidelines and take in every slice, every bite and drop of blood spilled, but he had a task.

The horsemen couldn't fight. Never been able to actually. It went against some old dusty rules that no-one but Death actually cared about, and only Death really enforced. But what Death enforced, you  _obeyed._ Horsemen that could just do what they wanted? Hello awesome fun time. Unfortunately Death didn't see it that way, instead he droned on about  _responsibilities_ and other boring words. The horsemen were ideas at best, they influenced those around them, planted the seeds of suggestions. Or disease in Pestilence's case.

Horsemen couldn't kill people directly, Death excluded because…well that's what he  _did_. Pity.

The horseman ducked as a demon flew low, trailing smoke in its wake and an angel in hot pursuit. The angel caught up, grappling with the dark vapor, the two twisting around each other in a parody of a dance.

 _Focus._ He had a mission, he had to stay on target but…aw hell it was all so exciting. No sign of Lucifer yet, though Eve was in the middle of things as per usual. Yeesh but that was one terrifying mama. Wouldn't want to meet  _her_ down a dark alley.

Eve's true form was as monstrous as her many offspring. Harpy like, her skin was sallow and wrinkled, her appearance somewhat like a demonic old hag. Her eyes bled red, her mouth a too-large black hole with jagged shark teeth. She seemed to put them to good use; sinking them into every creature she could get her clawed hands on. She tore a swath through the Gods that challenged her; War was pretty sure he saw Mercury go down in a spray of blood, whilst Bacchus beat at her head ineffectually with an empty wine bottle.

But his mission wasn't Eve, or saving hopeless Gods.

His mission was the awful creature at her side. The creature currently latched onto an Asian God, the portly fellow screaming as the thing ripped and tore through the God's flesh easily. Oh gross, it was  _eating_ him.

War squared his shoulders, trying to summon what little power he possessed in this place, ignoring the chaos around him. He and his brothers might not be able to play with the other kids, but by God they could play with their own.

Horsemen couldn't kill people directly. But they  _could_ kill supernatural shit that others couldn't. It had never really seemed useful until now.

"Heeere, puppy puppy," he muttered. "Daddy would like to have a word."

 

* * *

 

Sam's arms were aching. Between him, Bobby and Dean, the three had managed to make a low wall of dead monsters to take cover behind. They were still on the edge of the fighting, close to the Veil wall where there were at least lulls between the waves of monsters that came at them. Chaos reigned further within the battlefield, where the stronger fighters and stronger monsters clashed. Fighters like Gabriel and Cas, and Sam hoped they were ok. It was safer along the edges so it's there the humans stayed; as safe as a celestial fight for the Earth could be that is.

They took turns defending their position, taking a quick rest when there was a lull and the monsters withdrew long enough to gather their courage again. Both sides had suffered heavy losses in the first onslaught, and the dead lay where the fell. Seemed logical to use that to their advantage.

The only problem was their makeshift wall  _stank,_ and Sam pinched his nose for the millionth time, grimacing. Daring a quick glance over a dead shapeshifter, he felt a pang of sorrow as he noticed the slain body of a forest God a little further away. Thin and elf-like, her green skin glowed faintly still, her brown eyes staring blankly into the night sky. Her chest was a gaping cavity, and from her spilled a substance that looked like quicksilver; shimmering as it trickled to the dirt.

Dean dropped down heavily beside him, shaking his head as he tried to catch his breath. "Can't see Cas  _or_  Gabriel. They're probably further in, kicking ass." He shot a quick look over the wall, just as Sam had done only moments ago. "Looks like they're gonna swarm us again in a minute. You ready?"

Sam groaned unhappily, testing his aching arm. "Do I have a choice?"

His brother smiled cheerily at him, the effect ruined by the sheer amount of blood and gore Dean seemed encrusted in. "No. But I figured I'd ask anyways."

A flash of light briefly illuminated the two, and Crowley appeared, flames dying in his palms. Like the angels, the demon had chosen to fight from within his vessel, but even in his vessel his demonic face shone through. His eyes blazed red and snake-like, the demon tripping over his s's as his tongue forked and grew longer. His whole body seemed to emit an opaque black smoke, but it was the very _real_ smoke that caught Sam's attention; an open flame smoldering along the demon's arm.

"Don't thesse basstardssss ever give up?" he growled, smacking the flame into submission sullenly. The demon was disheveled, just as bloody as the rest of them, but also slightly singed in places. "I nearly burnt off my eyebrowsss trying to barbeque a sss…sss-GODDAMN SSSS." The demon did a little jig of rage at his hissing. "Ssss..ssss…a goddamn ugly git alright?"

"Would have been an improvement," Bobby muttered, loading the pistol with the last of his ammo. Dean still had his safely tucked against his chest, unwilling to use it just yet. Who knew what Lucifer was waiting to release.

"Hey Crowley!" Dean ribbed cheerfully, winking at Sam. "Say: silly sally went to the seashore to sullenly collect seashells."

Crowley gestured rudely at him. "How about you bite me?"

"Ssssssure," Sam bit out cheekily, Dean roaring with laughter.

"Children, save the witty one liners for the battle field," Balthazar scolded them, dragging the stiff body of a werewolf to add to their makeshift wall. "Or just save your energy period. They're coming again."

Dean struggled up, wincing as he felt his knees crack. "Balthazar have you seen Cas? I lost track of him."

The angel shrugged, glancing out towards the ongoing fight. His blonde hair was wild and messy; something black and gooey clinging to one side of his head. "My money's on in there somewhere. Kid has a lot of anger issues."

Dean breathed out a growl. "Dammit I should be in there-"

"And die immediately?" Crowley interrupted with a snort. "Take my word, you're doing more good here on the edge."

Sam could feel the ground rumbling beneath him, and he rolled his eyes, getting to his feet. "Here we go!"

But the playful ribbing Crowley and Balthazar had been contributing had died off, the two supernatural creatures staring behind Sam beyond their corpse wall. Balthazar's eyes were huge as his mouth opened to shout, Crowley already starting forward.

It was Dean who saved him, grabbing Sam by the arm  _hard_ and dragging him away from the wall. Just as they both stumbled to the side, their carefully constructed monster wall exploded as something barreled into it. Something very big, and  _very_  heavy.

"TROLL!" Balthazar screamed at them, rushing forward to distract the huge thing. Bracing his hands low to the ground, he spread his auburn wings, fluttering them towards the troll. A simple creature, it saw the colors and immediately moved towards him, ignoring the scrambling humans. It was huge, thick limbed and solid; one blow and it would kill a human easily.

With a wince, Crowley shook his hands, fire beginning to glow weakly from his palms. He turned to see the Winchesters still standing, gawking at the troll as it lumbered away from them.

"Run you idiotsss!" the demon yelled at them, red eyes wide and fearful as he hurried after Balthazar. " _RUN!_ "

Another troll was beginning its headlong charge towards them, and Sam turned, blindly following Dean as they scrabbled away; straight into the fight. The main body of the battle was just a crush of bodies; a mass of yelling and screaming as monsters and good guys alike died for their cause. Sam caught a glimpse of Odin in the distance, hurling his spear into the stomach of a ghoul.

A goblin slammed into him from the right, and Sam stumbled, slashing at the creature and losing sight of his brother in front of him momentarily. "DEAN!"

Dean appeared only to be ripped away again as a demon screamed by, and Sam lost him in the mass of bodies. The hunter tried to dive through them but was buffeted aside, tumbling backwards to land on his back on the gore slick ground. His lungs were a burning weight in his chest, his legs weak and straining as he tried to get back up.

A familiar roar sounded above his head, and Sam froze, slowly looking up into the thuggish face of a cave troll. The thing stank of rotten meat and mildew; just one meaty fist was bigger than Sam's currently prone body. Sam watched it with wide eyes as it loomed over him, tiny pig eyes glittering in triumph at an easy kill.

Sam Winchester was going to be killed by a troll of all things.  _Great._  He braced himself for the blow; eyes squeezed shut and lying in a congealed pool of monster blood.  _Sorry Dean. I tried._

He waited for a blow that never came.

Instead, the troll bellowed in agony, flailing its arms around stupidly as it shook the earth with its panicked dancing. Sam dared a peek from one eye, and gasped in surprise, rolling over onto his knees as he stared up.

"Fenrir!"

The giant wolf had slammed into the troll, jaws snapping shut around its thick neck, digging deep into the engorged flesh. He had landed a killing bite, and the troll knew it, even as it struggled feebly to tear the wolf away from its throat, thick fingers tugging at the wolf's sides. There was a spray of purple arterial blood as Fenrir jerked his head back and the troll reeled, but stubbornly refused to go down.

Lunging again, Fenrir snapped at its face, and the troll bellowed, grabbing the wolf in both hands and finally managing to dislodge him. Despite Fenrir's size, the troll was bigger, and it managed to hold him aloft, dangling the wolf above his head like some triumphant caveman. One beefy hand was wrapped around Fenrir's shoulders, the other grabbing both back legs at the thigh. Like a hunter grabs a struggling rabbit, the troll had caught him, and bayed happily. The wolf snarled, writhing in its grip but the troll took no notice, looking down at Sam.

Sam tried to get up, move, stumble,  _anything_ but his legs stubbornly refused to cooperate, and he stayed on his knees, blinking dumbly up at the creature. The troll grinned down at him, teeth rotten and brown, blood gushing in crimson torrents down its grimy chest and pot belly.

"Hoo-man see?" it asked, voice deep and guttural, barely understandable."Hoo-man  _watch._ "

Fenrir snapped his jaws again, voice laced with hatred as he struggled in its grasp. " _Do not speak to him,_ _ **filth**_ _!"_ The wolf yelped as the troll pulled him tight, stretching the God's body over its head like one stretches a wet towel. Sam's stomach plummeted as the troll continued to watch him, slowly twisting its hands in a wringing motion.

Fenrir continued to growl and snap, though his eyes were resigned and cool. The wolf knew what was to come. " _Samuel look away. You need not bear witness to this. Find your brother._ "

The giant troll grinned wider, twisting the wolf further, and Fenrir's words broke off in a grunt.

"Hoo-man see," it repeated. "Hoo-man watch."

The sharp snap that followed as the troll twisted his hands suddenly, was a sound that would haunt Sam the rest of his life.

The troll guffawed loudly, throwing Fenrir to the side where the wolf landed in the dirt with a meaty thud. He didn't move.

Sam's legs finally responded, and Sam found himself hurtling forward with an enraged scream, blade drawn. But the troll had had the last laugh, and finally succumbed to his wounds, slumping to the ground. Sam lashed out at its thick hide ineffectively, the blade barely piercing its almost rock-like skin. The blade slipped from Sam's fingers as he balled his hands into fists, relentlessly pounding them against the dead flesh in front of him. He knew it was useless, that the thing was dead and he was wasting valuable energy, but his rage didn't allow for anything else.

He hit it again and again, knuckles bleeding and pain radiating up his arms. He hit it until he couldn't see, blinded by blood and tears and pain.

A hand grabbed him by the shoulder, pulling him away.

"Sam! SAM!"

Sam peered blearily into his brother's worried face. Dean looked terrified, hands skimming lightly over Sam's face to check for injuries. His voice was a constant murmur, but even his big brother's familiar tone couldn't quell the echoing snapping sound in Sam's ears.

"Sam it's dead. It's dead."

The words didn't mean anything to him. It didn't change the reality that lay lifelessly before him.

The fallen form on the ground beside the stinking troll forced another shuddering breath from him. Sam pulled away from Dean to numbly sink down beside the wolf, reaching out with shaking fingers to touch his head. Fenrir was still breathing, laborious shallow pants, front paws twitching. His back legs lay still, his body arched at an impossible angle.

The troll had snapped his spine.

Fenrir tried to lick the fingers that stroked his face, and Sam shook his head, blood-wet hair sticking to his forehead and cheeks as he struggled to speak. "I'm so…so sorry Fenrir. It's…it's all my...my fault."

Fenrir looked up at him, golden eyes pained and voice strained. " _There is…nothing more honorable…than dying…for family."_

Sam found he was crying so hard he couldn't breathe, chest heaving as he tried to suck in breaths, fisting his hands into Fenrir's slick fur. Dean knelt down beside him, shaking his head numbly.

"You can't die," his brother managed, swallowing. "You're a God! You just…just need to heal. I'll…I'll get Gabriel…"

Fenrir smiled weakly, his white teeth flecked with red. A slow trickle of blood wound its way down the side of the wolf's nose. The troll had crushed him, wrung the very life from him with one twist. " _Everything dies, Dean. Even…even Gods."_

The wolf shuddered, eyes beginning to become unfocused. The sounds of battle around them intensified, and Sam saw Dean look around worriedly. The fighting wouldn't avoid them forever.

" _Go,_ " Fenrir rasped, glancing up at Sam pleadingly. " _Run free and fight…fiercely."_

He tried to raise his head, but was too weak, and Sam could only shake his head helplessly, tightening his fingers in Fenrir's dense, warm fur.

" _Go,_ " the wolf repeated, his usual gravelly voice, faint. " _Know…know that it was an honor…to call you both…my brothers_ _ **.**_ "

Dean's hand found Sam's shoulder, fingers digging tightly into his armor as they both gazed down at the Nordic God. Slowly, Dean reached down to touch the wolf, his hand reverent and respectful as Sam sobbed beside him.

"The honor was ours, Fenrir."

Sam watched as the fire in those golden eyes spluttered and finally died; the wolf's great heaving chest falling still as the battle continued around them.

The forest had called Fenrir home.

Dean was pulling at him, voice thick with emotion but firm as he ordered Sam to follow him. Dean knew it wasn't over yet. They couldn't afford to give up now, and there was no time for mourning. Sam stumbled after his brother mutely, heart numb and eyes blank.

He didn't look back. He couldn't.

 

* * *

 

Castiel spun on his heel, wings arched and perfectly balanced as he whirled and sliced and stabbed. Demons and monsters fell before him, and the angel could almost fool himself into thinking it was a fight they could win. He had to. For the others. For the world.

For Dean.

A vampire lunged at him, claws scrabbling against the slick metal of his armor, and he punched it away emotionlessly, twisting to the left to avoid the smoky trail of a demon as it screeched past. Two witches were beginning a chant against him, the two joining hands and pointing towards him. With a grunt, Castiel pushed down hard with his wings, the force of the air blowing the two crones off their feet and into the path of a rugaru. Furious its hunt had been interrupted, the rugaru fell upon the screaming witches mercilessly, unknowingly helping Castiel greatly.

The angel turned away, closing his eyes briefly to sense that Gabriel was nearby, engaged in his own battles. Raphael practically lit up the entire battlefield with her wrath above, and Dean…

Dean was still there. Castiel could feel the human, a warm spark along the edges of his consciousness, and the angel breathed sigh of relief, opening his eyes again. It was safer for Dean to stay as far away from Castiel as possible on the battlefield, just in case Lucifer decided to-

A dark presence suddenly choked his senses and made his movements falter. A vampire rose up in front of him, grinning triumphantly as it shoved him hard. Off-balance, Castiel reeled, stumbling backwards. Monsters moved out of his way, backing away from the angel with excited whispers. Castiel found himself surrounded by them, a wide empty circle around him. The dark presence grew stronger, and Castiel slowly turned around, already knowing what he would find.

The creature before him was not an angel.

Lucifer was barely recognizable. Any trace of his previous glory and grace had been consumed by the hatred he carried inside him, scouring away the traces of light that had once resided within. Where he had one possessed wings of unparalleled beauty, they were now but ashes. Two skeletal limbs rose behind him, waxy and decayed flesh stretched tight between the delicate carpal bones. The flesh was blackened; sickly sweet in smell and Lucifer stretched his wings wide, grinning.

"Like what you see Castiel?"

The devil's true face was the most terrifying. It was more reptile than humanoid now, flat slits for a nose and a forked tongue hissed from between razor-like teeth. Only lightless vacuums existed in his eyes; blackened pits that swirled with dark shadows. His body was a canvass of abuse and decay; his fingers and toes were wizened talons, hooked and serrated attached to wasted limbs.

Castiel could only watch in muted horror as the abomination approached him, the battlefield bleeding away until there was only this; him and the devil. Him and  _evil._

"What's the matter honey?" The shadows in that awful face danced. "Don't you think I'm  _pretty_?"

Castiel dimly realized he was backing away, trying to distance himself, but his path was blocked; the monsters around them had formed an impermeable circle. Drawing on everything that made him fight for good, which made him an  _angel,_ Castiel took a deep breath, gathering his strength. He spread his wings aggressively, fingers gripping his blade tightly as moved his feet into a better fighting position.

"Lucifer. You have fallen into a place so dark and foul you can never be saved," he growled, hoping his voice sounded more confident than he currently felt.

Lucifer laughed at that, the circle of monsters around the two rippling as they mirrored their leader. "So  _dramatic._ So brave. I like that about you, Castiel."

The devil paused, forked tongue flickering between his blackened lips. "Can't say I approve of your attire though little one."

Castiel didn't relax his stance, holding his blade higher. "And I do not care what you think, abomination."

Lucifer moved so quickly that Castiel didn't even see it coming; the devil slamming into him with the power of a freight train. Castiel went flying; wings cushioning his fall as he hit the dirt on his back, air forced from his lungs. Lucifer looked coldly down at him, black flames beginning to spark within the shadows.

"Respect your elders, Castiel. You fight within your vessel. It makes you weak. And that… _ridiculous_ armor. Whatever were you thinking?"

His tone was light, but Castiel could see the fury in the way the shadows writhed in his face, the yawning chasms of corruption that bled through his skin in angry torrents. With a flap of his wings, Castiel was back on his feet and staring into the soul of hell itself. He felt that he should be afraid; quaking as he stared into the darkness, but his grace was quiet. Absolute.

"I wear Michael's armor," he murmured. "Because like him, I will cast you down, Lucifer. You will never use my grace to form your new heaven. You will never harm another creature as long as I live. I do not care how long it takes me, but I  _will_ destroy you."

This time he knew the blow was coming, did not attempt to dodge it. Lucifer was far more powerful and fast than he, and Castiel rolled his neck with the punch, absorbing some of the force. The second was more painful, Lucifer slashing across his face with serrated talons, and Castiel dropped his blade in shock.

He could feel them in his skin, slicing him open, digging their decayed and corrupted shadows into his very being. It was a white hot pain that burned as cold as ice, and Castiel tried to pull away, wings straining. Lucifer latched onto him, tugging him forward and digging those stained claws into the base of his wings. Castiel screamed at the pain, thrashing futilely as his wings jerked in agony. Things were latching onto him, tendrils of rancorous putrescence that burrowed into his skin, seeking out his brightness, his life, his grace.

Images filled his vision, awful things, things of hell, and things of Lucifer. Forbidden knowledge that the devil had sought out from the confines of his cold prison. Lucifer had gazed into the abyss, and it had not returned his gaze; it  _became him_  instead.

"You're a toddler playing in your mother's clothes," the devil hissed, too close, too dark. "Careful you don't fall over in such oversized shoes."

" _LUCIFER!"_

It was the voice of a wrathful archangel, and Lucifer chuckled, stepping away from Castiel. The angel slumped to the ground in a boneless heap.

"I wonder who that could be?" Lucifer mused, tapping one bloody claw to his face. He glanced down at Castiel, who gasped and retched on the dirt, body shaking. "Oh right. Gabriel. Your over-protective father figure right?"

Even in his vessel, Gabriel was an amazing sight. The archangel was a storm of holy fire; his wrath bleeding from his eyes in golden waves as he attempted to breach the circle around the two, wings beating the air furiously. Lucifer waved over at him, decayed wings twitching.

"Sorry Gabriel! This is an invite only party. But I'm  _sure_ my associate can entertain you for a while." The devil glanced away over the crowd, and Castiel shakily managed to get into a crouch, reaching for the blade he had dropped.

There was a dark cackle, and Eve pushed through her children, latching onto Gabriel's legs and tugging him back to earth, the Mother impossibly strong in her true form. Gabriel turned on her, shouting Enochian in his anger and the Mother only laughed harder, taking his blows like she felt nothing.

Noticing Castiel reaching for his blade, Lucifer shook his head with a tsk, kicking it away nonchalantly. The backhand to Castiel's face was powerful enough that had he been mortal, he would have died instantly. Instead he saw stars, head snapping back hard. Blood roared in his ears as Castiel blinked, trying to clear his vision, and he could dimly hear Gabriel's screams of outrage.

Lucifer loomed above him, slamming one taloned foot down into his breastplate forcing the seraph to the ground, pinning him in place.

"Tell me,  _son._ What's it like? Fucking a human I mean." The shadows boiled. "Are they as squishy and weak on the inside as they are on the out?"

Castiel struggled, kicking his legs out defiantly. A strong pain resonated in his chest, and he gritted his teeth, glaring up at the creature that had once been his brother. "You will not harm the Winchesters."

"Of course not!" Lucifer sing-songed, pressing down harder and forcing the air from Castiel's lungs in a pained gasp. "I'm going to  _butcher them._ Slaughter them like the pigs they are, to demonstrate the price of disobedience to you. Especially your little boyfriend."

The edges of his vision were beginning to darken, and Castiel thrashed, hands scrabbling against the foot holding him. The skin beneath his fingers felt rotten, throbbing with foulness and it tugged at him in return, yearning to pull him into its putrid embrace. It would consume him, burrow into his grace and destroy him until he was an echo of the dark creature bearing down on him.

"But before I do that, I think you need a lesson in manners my little fledgling," Lucifer continued, and Castiel could feel himself beginning to slip away, falling into a darkness that had no end. "Have to respect your elder's don't you kn-"

The weight on his chest disappeared, as did the blackness, and Castiel rolled to his side, gasping in deep breaths appreciatively. With shaking hands, he lunged for his discarded blade, expecting the devil to return; forcing himself onto his protesting knees. His chest was burning, a hot pain deep inside, and he clutched futilely at his chest plate, struggling to breathe. Lucifer had landed in an undignified heap several yards away, and he pulled himself into a coiled crouch, wings spread and hissing furiously.

There was an angel standing between Lucifer and Castiel.

The devil slowly drew to his full height, voice low and angry. "You dare? Who do you think you are, you filthy an-"

"You touch my seraph again, and I will  _kill you Lucifer._ "

Lucifer froze as the stranger's voice cracked across the suddenly silent clearing. The monsters all stared in barely concealed awe at the angel that dared challenge the devil in such a way. Who had the power to match him, could catch him unawares.

Castiel knew of only one angel who could.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Swearing, blasphemy, an incestuous relationship (kind of? I don't even know..), graphic non-con(not sexual, but grace violation without consent), mpreg (not really, magical angel grace babies, you know the drill by now :P), violence.

Michael had existed since the Earth first formed.

He could remember the formation of worlds, of watching the stars burst into life as meteors flashed across the glittering black sky. He could remember his Father's voice, the first words God spoke in the stillness of heaven, and the angels that sprung into being beneath His loving gaze. Michael had been the first in many things; God's first creation, the first angel, first son…

The first casualty of Lucifer's war.

Michael loved his family. He loved tiny Gabriel, with his mischievous ways and raucous laughter. He loved Raphael's unending patience and fierce loyalty. He loved Lucifer's…well. He loved Lucifer. Michael was a loyal son, a protective older brother and eventually, after Father's instruction, a father in many ways. Michael formed many fledglings, many more brothers and sisters to love and protect. And Michael cherished them all, each feather on each wing of every angel.

Yet none knew, for none spoke to the archangel. Michael was terrifying to behold, an angel that carried within him God's righteous wrath and love in equal amounts; Michael the protector, Michael the soldier…never Michael the brother. Never Michael the beloved.

Fledglings hid from him, cowering behind their carers whenever he approached; intimidated by his power and fiery wings. Even his closest siblings could not bear to stand in his presence for long. Gabriel would wince, eyes watering and wings shivering with fear as Raphael stood nearby, spine ramrod straight, never looking at him directly. Neither would relax until Michael left, and their silent sighs of relief were too-sharp shards of pain in his chest.

Michael was alone in a family of thousands.

Perhaps his brother knew this, knew of the loneliness that festered deep within Michael's grace. Perhaps it was merely all an act, a plan that would eventually lead to its terrible but inevitable conclusion. Michael preferred to think that it was real what Lucifer offered him, what they shared together once upon a time. That somehow the years turned Lucifer into something else, but in those early days he was just…Lucifer. Brother, friend, beloved.

Lucifer was not afraid to stand in his presence. Lucifer, with his beautiful wings and laughing eyes. He burned brighter than Michael ever could, but not with fire. No, Lucifer glittered like refracted light within a gem; casting his rays upon any who looked upon him. They would talk together, lying side by side on the peaceful more empty plains of heaven; Michael's voice low and deep, Lucifer's melodious and light. They forged a bond between them in those quiet moments, and Michael felt whole. Complete.

At peace.

Michael could remember the pleasant press of Lucifer's grace against his, stolen in their quiet moments of solitude. Michael would run his fingers along Lucifer's strong jaw, feathers brushing together as Lucifer laughed into the silence, his smile blinding and heated beneath Michael's lips.

It was not forbidden to love one another in heaven, yet what he and his brother shared…it made Michael uneasy. He was becoming too dependent, preferring Lucifer's company to God's, seeking his brother out even when he knew he should speak with his Father instead. But Lucifer was so very beautiful, and Michael, terrifying and stoic Michael, was helpless to his charms. He could remember beautiful moments they shared, hiding from Raphael like naughty fledglings, taking refuge the still new Library.

 

* * *

 

It was empty, for books had yet to be written, but Michael enjoyed the peace here, the history the building would soon bear. They had taken refuge in one quiet corner, hidden behind a parapet, and Raphael's voice echoed towards them, demanding they come forth. Lucifer bit down on his fist, body shivering with giggles. Michael was pressed so close against him that the giggles seemed to come from within himself as well, and he grinned, wrapping sure arms around Lucifer's lither form. He pressed chaste kisses against Lucifer's neck, smiling as he felt his brother's answering purr reverberate beneath his lips.

"She'll blow up one day if we tease her too much," Michael murmured, voice low and gruff in the silence as they listened to Raphael stomp away. He sometimes felt like a lumbering animal beside Lucifer; too large and bumbling. Lucifer was a graceful creature, much more so than he, but he didn't seem to mind, turning in Michael's arms to fix his blinding gaze upon his brother.

"You mean if we're lucky," Lucifer winked, fingers combing through Michael's air as he tugged gently to pull him forward for another kiss. "The old crone would have a heart attack if she knew what we  _really_ got up to."

He knew he should admonish Lucifer for that, for calling their sister a name, but Michael only smiled, allowing Lucifer to take what he wanted from his mouth, wings folding around them both.

 

* * *

 

Such memories hurt. They clawed at his heart, rendering him bloody and shivering. He should have known, he should have  _seen_ that it was wrong, should have stopped it. But…but he couldn't. Michael was blind when it came to Lucifer, and that blindness had cost him everything.

 

* * *

 

"What are you doing?"

Lucifer glanced up, blonde hair ruffled and dark circles beneath his eyes. "Michael, I…I…"

With a heavy sigh, Michael willed the clouds around them closed, shutting out the rest of heaven. It was not unusual to find Lucifer within his nest, more often than not his brother slept there rather than his own.

"Lucifer you know this is not how Father wills it," he said gently, settling down behind his brother. Lucifer looked away stubbornly, arms curling more protectively around the bundle in his arms.

"He's mine," Lucifer said stubbornly, shifting the sleeping seraph in his arms. "I made him, he's  _mine._ "

The babe snuffled, pressing its tiny face more firmly into the pale column of Lucifer's throat. Tiny burnt sepia wings fluttered on its back, and Michael reached out to touch them gently.

"Lucifer he is not yours. We are all creatures of God. Give the seraph back to Anael, she will raise our brother until he is grown."

Lucifer glared at him frostily, and Michael felt his wings twitch in aggravation. Why must Lucifer always make things so difficult?

"Just because you don't care about  _your_ fledglings," his brother said bitterly. "How many do you have anyways? Hundreds I bet. You don't even know their  _names._ "

Michael pulled away, face darkening. "Lucifer, cease your childish ways. Azazel's place is with Anael. Return him to her and I will not mention this to Father."

Lucifer snorted, rising to his feet in a flap of his wings. "I bet you'd love that. Go tattling to Father and tell him what a bad son I am." Lucifer moved closer towards Michael, eyes cold as he lowered his voice to a whisper. "If he only knew what  _we_  got up to in the dark places of heaven, I bet he wouldn't look upon you as highly."

Azazel was beginning to stir in Lucifer's arms, and with a dark mutter, Lucifer pushed past Michael, disappearing. Michael could only stare after him.

 

* * *

 

Perhaps it was that moment where it all changed. Perhaps it was inevitable, perhaps not. But after that moment, Lucifer withdrew from him, and Michael's nest was empty once again.

Michael accepted that he was alone. It was his punishment for allowing himself to become so close to Lucifer, a burden he had to bear and he bore his cross silently. Lucifer avoided him, preferring the company of other angels, then Azazel when he grew old enough. Michael spent more and more time in the library as the shelves filled with books, remembering happier times spent in its nooks and crannies as he read through the soon to be history of man.

Then…then that fateful night.

 

* * *

 

Michael rubbed his eyes tiredly, the text shifting lower in his lap. Maoin shuffled past him, a cart laden with books in front of him.

"Staying up late, brother?" the old librarian queried. Michael smiled over at him, wincing as he sat up.

"Lost track of time. I will be out of your feathers soon enough, Maoin."

The old angel waved him away. "Don't mind me. I'm just going to deliver these texts to Raphael. Why she can't just come here and read them herself is beyond me but…"

Michael chuckled. "Raphael is Raphael. Goodnight."

With a nod and a wave, the old librarian was gone. With a groan, Michael set the book aside, slowly getting to his feet with a long stretch. He preferred spending time in the library. His nest was too empty, too large, and the archangel rarely spent time in it anymore. Several sheets of parchment rustled; a gust of air pushing them off the mahogany desk to the floor. Michael already knew who it was, and he turned slowly, suddenly impossibly nervous.

"Lucifer."

He was still as bright and beautiful as Michael remembered, and his fingers twitched, longing to reach forward towards those ebony wings. He kept his hands at his sides.

"Michael," his brother acknowledged, glancing at the books around them. "Doing a little bit of light reading?"

Lucifer was tense, coiled and unpredictable. His black wings were twitching, betraying his brother's inner thoughts. Lucifer had come here for a reason.

Michael stayed where he was, cool and collected. "Yes. The stories of man make for excellent bedtime reading."

Something dark scurried across Lucifer's face, and Michael arched his wings slightly. Lucifer had begun to voice his opinions about Father's plans, and Michael had heard the whispers between his siblings.

"Despite what you may think Lucifer, mankind will be worth loving."

Lucifer laughed out loud at that, pausing by the desk, hands clasped behind his back. "Oh really? Well that's alright then, as long as Michael says so. Or is it Father? And you're just the good little choirboy repeating his words."

Michael's sense of foreboding grew. He should leave. Perhaps seek out Father and tell him of Lucifer's misgivings, ask Him for guidance as to how to solve the problem. Anything but remain here, with a brother he loved so completely, and so easily lost himself in.

"Why are you here?" he asked instead, voice but a mere whisper in the quiet. "Why now, Lucifer?"

 _Why did you leave me?_ The library seemed to hold its breath; the many books awaiting the response and craning their spines closer to hear.

"Why?" Lucifer asked bitterly. "Of them all, I thought you understood. How could you not? We're  _different_ from them, Michael. The two of us."

Michael took a step back, feeling the cool marble of the fireplace brush against the tips of his wings. "Understand what?"

Lucifer advanced, eyes glittering. There was something predatory in his gaze, hungry and demanding. "We don't have to bow to them. We can create our own world, Michael. You and me. We don't have to suffer under this yoke of obedience. We can make our own path. Together."

Michael was speechless. What Lucifer was saying…what he was  _implying_ …it was blasphemy.

"Be silent!" he snapped, his voice booming through the library as anger broiled low in his chest. "You would defy God?"

The steely resolve in those crystalline eyes was all the answer he needed, and Michael felt genuine fear for his brother. For what he wanted to do, for what might happen to him if he chose to follow that path. The archangel took a deep breath, calming himself. Taking a step forward, he spread his arms.

"Lucifer I beg you, cease these delusional ideas. Father would-"

Before his eyes Lucifer seemed to grow in size, wings snapping wide and face darkening further. " _Father,"_  he spat, eyes flashing. "What  _Father_ asks so much of his children? What Father demands that I give life to something, then give it to someone else? That asks me to bow to something so… _weak_? He is no  _Father._ "

Michael found words had deserted him, mouth opening and closing. Lucifer advanced again, a seething storm of anger.

"And  _you-_ " Lucifer hissed. "Strong, loyal Michael. You cling to His every word, blindly obey Him. What are you without Him, Michael?  _Who_ are you? Nothing."

They were chest to chest now, and Michael drew himself up to his full height, glaring down at his brother.

"I am an archangel," he said firmly, though inside he quaked. "A loyal son, yes. Something you would not understand, Lucifer. I obey my Father, my God. I do not answer to  _you._ "

The shadows in his brother's eyes deepened, and inside Michael screamed at the injustice of it. That he must choose between his God and his brother. That Lucifer was forcing that choice upon him.

"No," Lucifer said quietly, voice dangerous. "No, I suppose you don't answer to me."

Michael was startled by the hand that grabbed his arm, Lucifer so quick he didn't see him move. Lucifer's touch was uncomfortable, a tight band around his flesh, and Michael growled at him, trying to pull away. He was stronger than Lucifer, but he did not use it, afraid of hurting his brother. His first mistake of many.

"Release me!" he demanded. "Lucifer let me  _go._ "

Lucifer was watching his face, but something had dimmed in those eyes, leaving a flat smooth surface that betrayed nothing. "You don't answer to me. But you  _will_."

It happened quickly. Michael remembered twisting and fighting, wings buffeting and crashing into shelves of books; their contents spilling down to the floor in loud thuds. It was as if his mind blanked. In all of his time in heaven, no angels had ever  _fought._ A scuffle here and there, some feather pulling perhaps but not this; not punches that drew blood. Even as it happened he could only gawk in stunned disbelief that it was  _real_. His back ached from the force of being slammed against things, desks, shelves and his arms shook as he tried to deflect the blows, slapping Lucifer away and twisting his body. He was stronger, but Lucifer was quicker; dodging him and breaking his defenses easily.

Michael slammed to the floor, Lucifer straddling his chest and trapping his arms. His wings were pinned beneath him, and he flapped them weakly, but Lucifer bore down on him, using his own to keep Michael pinned.

" _You,_ " Lucifer hissed, backhanding Michael hard. "I  _loved_  you! And you just…you just threw me away for  _Him."_

Stunned, Michael reeled from the blow, still struggling. He could feel the slow slide of blood from his split lip, and he swallowed hard, wincing at the metallic taste. "Lucifer…please I-"

Another backhand and Michael saw stars. Lucifer grabbed his chin, face darting down to bite at Michael's lips viciously as the archangel struggled feebly. When he pulled away, Lucifer's mouth was smudged red.

"You could have had it all," he said calmly. "You could have had  _me_. Now you'll have nothing. He's going to be beautiful, Michael. So very beautiful."

Michael tried one last time to buck his brother off, but Lucifer clamped down, keeping him in place.

" _Who?_ " He finally asked, desperate and worried. Maybe he could keep Lucifer talking, until someone came, Maoin or Raphael or…

Lucifer smiled down at him, but it was nothing like the sweet smiles they used to exchange, hidden in their private places. "Our son."

Michael's world shattered at the first shove of Lucifer's grace against his. He could remember shouting, pleading perhaps, the echoes of his begging bouncing off the smooth alabaster walls back towards his straining ears. It was a red hot pain within him as Lucifer pressed in; tendrils of strange grace curling around Michael's own. He struggled against it, feet scuffing the floor and thrashing his head from side to side. He could burn Lucifer to nothing, could scatter him across the universe with a blink, but…but it was  _Lucifer._ It was his brother, his friend…his…his everything…

A sudden image cut through the chaos in his mind, and for a moment Michael stopped struggling, chest heaving and eyes wide but unseeing. A child.

It would have Lucifer's wings, his beauty. A dark haired child with Michael's eyes, his stoic loyalty. It would be the best of both of them, pure and innocent. A fledgling of their very own. Untouched by God, untouched by heaven, a being all unto himself.

And in that moment, Michael  _wanted._

It was the weakness Lucifer searched for, and he tugged at the crack, tearing it open. There was pain within Michael, a burning wall of fire that he couldn't escape, and the archangel screamed to the ceiling, to God. It angered Lucifer, and he tore a swathe through Michael's grace, seizing the jagged bleeding cracks and worrying them open. And through the pain, through the haze of horror, Michael could hear a voice screaming back to him, something dying as he himself was torn open.

_Father._

He tried to yell, to tell Lucifer to stop, that he was doing so much  _more_ than just making a fledgling, more than simply tearing Michael apart. But his throat was closed, his voice hoarse and he could do nothing as the last desperate tendrils of Lucifer tugged  _hard,_ and a piece of Michael was forever separated from himself; a light suddenly born into being as another died.

Lucifer was whispering to him as Michael lay prone beneath him, endearments he had not used for many years, and Michael turned his face away as Lucifer tried to kiss him, eyes clenched shut and tearful.

He had failed. He had failed to protect heaven, his siblings…even God Himself. God was dead because of Michael's weakness. God was  _dead._

Lucifer rolled off him, swaying almost drunkenly as he sprawled across the floor.

"Oh," he said, voice slurred with pleasure. " _Oh."_ Lucifer groaned then, rolling to his side as his body twitched. Michael tried to move, his whole body reverberating with red hot pain. He hooked his fingers against the hard floor, painfully rolling himself over. His wings felt like dead weight against his back, dragging sluggishly either side of him.

Lucifer was glowing; his eyes an opaque white as he arched his back, wings fluttering around him. His hands pulled at his chest, a keening cry tumbling from his lips. Michael dragged himself forward, arms straining as Lucifer cried out; a burst of hot white light illuminating the deadly silent library.

And as the light faded, the silence was broken by a sharp cry. Michael paused, staring with wide eyes towards his brother. Lucifer grinned stupidly up at the ceiling, a mess of dark hair and shadows cradled against his chest.

"Told you," he murmured, eyes glazed. "Isn't he beautiful?"

Michael didn't know how he did it. Somehow he gathered what strength he had left, and with a growl, lunged forward. His fingers closed around the whimpering tiny form, tugging it away from Lucifer and hard against his own chest. His other hand slammed down on Lucifer's still weak form, banishing his brother somewhere into the cosmos. Lucifer disappeared, his enraged shout cut off as he was sent somewhere far away.

He'd return.

Michael rolled onto his back, panting heavily. The tiny thing against his chest was trembling, whimpering, as a small head nuzzled hard into the safety of his neck. Michael found himself comforting it, running his large hand down its soft downy wings as it shivered against him.

This fledgling was blasphemy; born in the worst possible way. Its birth had destroyed God Himself, its existence going against each rule God had set forth for angels. He should destroy it; remove its black mark from heaven before Lucifer could spread more corruption.

It snuffled against him, rubbing its cheek needily against his skin, and Michael felt his heart lurch and head spin. He already knew he could not. He would not. Because he was weak.

 

* * *

 

Castiel. They named Michael's son, Castiel.

The seraph flourished beneath Gabriel's loving gaze. Michael watched from afar as Castiel grew; the mischief he caused with Balthazar, his curiosity for the world of man. Lucifer returned from the place Michael sent him, but by the time Lucifer found his way back to heaven, Castiel was already walking and talking. Lucifer's chance at raising the seraph for his own dark purposes had been ruined, and Michael counted that as a small victory. No-one knew of the seraph's beginnings and no-one asked. Unbelievably no-one noticed God's absence, the gaping hole that only Michael could feel. Raphael had her doubts, but Michael did not tell her. It was better for them all to continue existing in their ignorance. Father had made so many plans, and Michael dutifully protected them, ensuring they came to fruition. Mankind flourished and grew.

Lucifer's corruption spread despite Michael's best efforts. He had gathered those faithful around him, Azazel included. He was not repentant of what he had done, and Michael lived in a constant state of alert that his brother would attempt such a thing again. They fought, loudly and publicly, for Michael would not allow himself to ever be caught unawares and unguarded again. Michael listened as his brother preached hatred, sowing the seeds of discontentment within heaven's ranks.

And he watched, as despite his best efforts, Lucifer succeeded. His brother was too blind, too angry. Lucifer was lost the moment he set foot in the library all those years ago, and there was nothing Michael could do. The pantheons of heaven ran red with blood, and Michael saw how utterly he had failed his Father, his brother; even heaven itself.

He knew that it had to be done.

Michael cast all feelings out of himself, becoming just a tool for heaven to extract her holy wrath. He became a soldier to do what had to be done; emotionless and cold. Lucifer was cast into the pit. The war ended. Angels rejoiced, but Michael was not among them. Lucifer had been right all those years ago; Michael had nothing. He had no God, no brother. He was nothing but a weak body with no purpose, and after Lucifer's fall, Michael disappeared into himself. He had failed so utterly, so completely that there was no further the archangel could fall. He withdrew from his siblings, the years turning him frail and bitter; locked within his own mind with his regrets and mistakes.

It was a hell of his own making, and Michael suffered within it willingly. Others believed him mad and he did nothing to discourage their whispers, haunting the halls of the library, growing as derelict as the texts within it. His mind dulled, as did his wings and the shattered remains of his grace. He waited for something, anything. He waited for an absolution that never came.

He did not meddle in the affairs of heaven. Raphael had her many plans, as did the others, and Michael did not care for them. Let them bring about the apocalypse. Let them fight amongst themselves. Let it be over. Michael drifted in and out on the waves of lucidity and the world continued without him.

 

* * *

 

It was a shout that roused him from his dusty slumber. A cry that ripped into his very being, cutting into him and he had gasped out loud, opening his eyes for the first time in many a year. He was aflame, pain infusing him and he reveled in it; a feeling beyond the blankness.

Castiel.

Castiel had grown into a young angel, a soldier much like Michael had once been. Now the angel was screaming, his voice so loud in the silence that was Michael's mind. He was being torn asunder by a wrathful archangel, for defying heaven and rebelling. Much like another angel did so long ago.

One name the seraph called out over and over, and it was not God's. He did not beg for divine forgiveness for his sins, nor mercy. He called out for another, selfless even in his dying moments.

_Let him succeed, let him live, Dean, Dean, Dean…._

The righteous man. Michael's intended vessel, if Raphael was to be believed. Despite all that had befallen the seraph, despite the betrayals of heaven, he still had faith. In a human, who by his very design would no doubt fail. It was faith, pure and blinding, and Michael felt ashamed. Ashamed he could not feel the same way, ashamed for letting the seraph slip through his fingers so easily. Ashamed he had failed once again.

Michael felt the moment Castiel died; the bright scattering of the seraph's grace across the cosmos.

Books fell from the shelves, dust swirling and papers fluttering as Michael spread his wings. It burned, his muscles and ligaments snapping with misuse but he ignored it, pushing free from the confines of heaven and its dead halls. Slowly and painfully, Michael gathered the tattered pieces of Castiel back together, smoothing his lips across the glittering fragments, knitting together flesh and bone. He trailed his fingers lovingly along each feather, restoring each knick, each burn and every scar. Castiel had descended into hell and retrieved the righteous man, and as such bore that honor upon his wings.

It was a laborious task, but Michael diligently pieced the seraph back together. He felt a pang of regret that it was beyond his powers to save the human soul that had so bravely given itself for a lost cause, but was comforted in knowing that the man was at peace.

Castiel was not Lucifer, despite the wicked whispers. Castiel was a being that loved, that knew of selflessness. And as Michael cradled the seraph's limp form tightly against his chest, he lamented the years he had lost not knowing the angel, of thinking the worst. With murmured apologies, Michael set the seraph back on earth, hoping that perhaps he had finally done some good.

He then returned to his dusty halls. There was no place for him out there.

Then...then Castiel came to him, and it hurt to look at the seraph, his fierce loyalty, his bright faith. He was too much like Michael used to be, too righteous and beautiful. Did he not see how weak Michael was? Had always been? He could not stop Lucifer. Lucifer was relentless, absolute, and Michael was tired of trying. Tired of it all. Let him come.

Let the fight finally be over.

 

* * *

 

The library was even colder after Castiel left, lifeless without his fire. It would be so easy to slip back into the depths of his despair, to float upon the sea of numbness again. Michael could hear the horn of war, the panicked fluttering of his siblings in heaven as they prepared for battle, and he felt a stirring. God was dead. Lucifer was free. The odds were stacked so impossibly in front of them, yet they prepared for war.

Michael left the library, pushing the huge doors open despite their protests and screeches. He blinked in the light; feeling like an owl suddenly thrust into the sun, to find most of the angels had already descended to earth, the others all at the gates of heaven, ready for the onslaught. Only one angel remained, and he sat serenely upon the library steps, face tilted towards the sun. Michael approached him, joints creaking and protesting from misuse.

Joshua didn't respond as the archangel stood above him, merely tilting his head further into the line of light.

"They say you speak to God," Michael's voice was so much quieter than it used to be, but Joshua did not comment on it, merely opening his eyes to look up at the archangel with soft eyes.

"They are correct."

Michael paused at that, his wings creaking and rustling in the quiet. "Does He ever speak to you in return?"

Joshua chuckled, reaching up to take Michael's hand in his. "He doesn't have to."

Michael looked out over the empty expanse of heaven, wondering dimly when it was Raphael had built so many buildings. "God is dead. You speak to nothing but a ghost."

"Funny," Joshua mused. "They say the same about you, yet here we are."

Michael looked down sharply at the angel, but Joshua was looking back up at the sky. "God is only dead if you believe Him to be, Michael." He continued. "That's why we have faith you see."

"I have no faith," Michael said bitterly. "I know the truth. How  _can_  I have faith?"

Joshua shook his head, fingers squeezing Michael's. "Faith does not need facts. It does not understand truth or lies. That is why in the wrong hands, faith can be so dangerous." The angel dropped his hand back to his lap, taking a deep contented breath. "But it can also be beautiful. A flower amongst the weeds, giving us hope that the winter will end and spring will come. We need but nurture that flower. Let it grow."

Michael glanced away, jaw clenching. "But the flower will wither and die amongst the weeds." He growled, impatient with Joshua's games. "The weeds will choke it, deny it sunlight and water."

Joshua nodded sagely. "Of course. If we allow it." The angel looked up, peering into Michael's face with sudden interest. "The question is whether you will allow it, Michael. Will you allow the flower to die? Or will you trim the weeds away?"

It was not a flower they were truly discussing. Michael looked down at Joshua, and found his wings jerking, suddenly longing to stretch wide and fly.

"God is dead," he repeated, as if this would explain everything. Joshua merely snorted.

"Only if we believe so, Michael. Only if  _you_ believe. Nothing is ever truly gone if you love it." The angel leaned upwards, pressing his palm hard against Michael's chest. "You always carry love within.  _Always._ "

They stayed like that, Michael staring with wide eyes and chest heaving, even as Joshua slowly pulled away, settling himself more comfortably on the steps.

"So I suppose the true question here is not whether you have faith." The angel shrugged. "It is whether you have the  _will_ to fight for that faith. Do you have the will, Michael? Do you have the will to nurture such a flower?"

Michael thought of an angel with singed ebony wings. An angel who should not exist but did, an angel who had a will so much stronger than Michael. An angel Michael had once clutched to his chest and loved so fiercely, long ago, broken and bloody on a cold marble floor.

"Yes," Michael said, and Joshua's smile seemed to light up all of heaven. "Yes I do."

 

* * *

 

Castiel could only gape in undisguised awe at the being before him, hand clutching his burning chest.

Gone was the sickly creature moping before a marble hearth, and in its place was a warrior. At Lucifer's words, Michael's wings snapped upwards, flames erupting in an inferno, blazing tendrils of fire crackling along each feather. His eyes were bright and smoldering where they glared down into the depths of Lucifer's; his dark hair no longer limp and greasy.

Michael was restored, and he burned brighter than Castiel had ever seen. In his right hand he brandished an archangel's blade, and Lucifer eyed it warily.

"Well. Guess it was foolish to hope you'd just stay moping around up there huh Michael?" Lucifer remarked, slowly straightening; talons digging into the cracked earth. "Long time no see."

Michael snarled at him, the sound as loud as a lion roaring as his wings fluffed further. "You dare stand before me and speak my name so easily?" The archangel's feet squared, his body poised and ready for a fight, even though he wore no armor. "You  _dare_  lay your hands upon my seraph?"

Lucifer's shadows contorted, his dead wings twitching in anger. " _Your_?" he spat. "Castiel is  _mine._ Go back to your dusty library Michael. Pine away and leave the fighting to the pros."

"I will  _not._ " The ground shook with the force of Michael's voice, the monsters around them cowering away. "For too long have I stood aside and lamented my failures. Too long have I haunted heaven and done  _nothing._ I failed you a long time ago Lucifer, but I will be _damned_ if I fail my brothers and sisters again."

"So you're going to stop me is that it?" Lucifer laughed, the sound hollow and bitter as he paced in front of the archangel; a tiger in a cage. "Cause that worked well  _last_  time didn't it?"

Michael did not move. "I will cast you down once again if I must."

Lucifer leered at him, forked tongue rolling between his jagged teeth. "Right. What about our poor little son hmm? Mummy and Daddy fighting again. Come on honey, think of the children."

The devil advanced, body moving as sinuously as a snake. "Tell us Michael," he murmured, voice smooth as silk. "Why don't you tell us all how you  _begged_ for it? Gagged for me to just take it all, on a cold library floor."

Michael stood frozen, eyes wide and horrified as the devil advanced, the sword in his hand trembling. The monsters were closing in again, sniggering and jeering, and Castiel struggled to his feet, breath coming in short gasps. The pain in his chest intensified, and he bent over, gritting his teeth.

"Do not listen, Michael," he grunted. "Lucifer's words are poison and lies. Empty and hollow."

Michael snapped out of his trance, and Lucifer backed off, growling unhappily. A loud shout from nearby signaled that Gabriel was once again near, and Michael threw a quick glance towards Castiel, bent double.

"I loved you once," Michael admitted, turning back to the devil, squaring his shoulders. "That is true. It blinded me to what you were capable of. But what you have become…can you not  _see_ Lucifer?" Michael gestured around them, at the bloody battle ongoing, the monsters that grinned around them. "Look at what you have done! What a fine accomplishment indeed, murdering your own and cavorting with abominations."

Michael's eyes were hard and unforgiving as he looked at his brother. "You became everything we despised."

"Enough of your lecturing, Michael!" Lucifer snarled, decayed wings flapping. "You made your choice, and now you'll suffer the consequences!"

The devil lunged forward, and Michael parried the deadly claws with his blade. "For choosing God over you?" With a grunt, Michael spun, his wings sweeping wide and forcing the devil back a few paces. "Lucifer…I always loved you. Despite your atrocities, and your blasphemy, I loved you. Even after…after…" The archangel looked away, over towards Castiel who was on his knees in the dirt, sucking in deep lungful's of air. "Even after that, I  _still_  loved you. I believe a part of me always will."

"It's too late for that!" Lucifer screamed, slashing outwards and catching Michael on the arm. The two grappled, Michael winning and shoving the devil backwards. "You cast me down! You could have joined me Michael, and you chose them! You chose God, you chose man, you chose everyone except  _me_!"

Michael returned Lucifer's glare, searching those black shadows for anything left of the brother he had loved. "And if I could do it all over again, I would do the same. I regret my mistakes, but not my choices. God forgive me."

"God is **dead**!" Lucifer advanced again but Michael forced him back with precise strikes of his blade. "I killed Him and even  _then_  you still loved Him! Even our…even our…" the devil hissed, drawing back to gesture angrily towards Castiel. "You couldn't even love  _him_."

Michael's eyes were sad, but he did not relax his stance, not allowing Lucifer to move past him towards the seraph. "You are not God, Lucifer. I can never love you as I love Him. Dead or not."

"Enough!" The devil's bellow sounded across the clearing, and the monsters nudged one another eagerly. "I will make you watch, Michael. I will make you  _watch_  as I destroy the world and create a new heaven."

Michael shook his head, blade raised and ready. "No. No, you won't brother." His wings blazed in the darkness, his grace strong and once again with purpose. "For I will destroy  _you_  before I allow that to happen."

Slowly, Michael raised his left hand, sweeping it in front of him in a wide arc. The monsters surrounding them shrieked as flames of holy fire swept through their ranks, forcing them to flee or die. Through the hole they left swept another archangel; Gabriel. Eve fled the flames with her children, and freed, the archangel was at Castiel's side, propping him up as he looked towards his older brother with wide eyes.

"Michael are you-"

"Gabriel, many years ago I gave to you a fledgling," Michael said grimly. "You vowed to me you would protect him at all costs. Does your vow still stand true?"

Gabriel dipped his head in shock, and Michael smiled grimly. "Good. Ensure you do so. Lucifer and I have much to discuss."

 

* * *

 

Gabriel winced, looking away as the two greatest powers of light and dark clashed; the boom making the earth tremble. Castiel's face was ashen, his breath coming in shallow gasps as Gabriel ran shaking hands over his face and body.

"Kiddo what's wrong? Did that bastard get you with something?" his voice was shaky, terrified. Castiel motioned to his chest, and Gabriel nodded. "Ok, ok hang on. I'm getting you out of here."

Gathering the seraph to him, Gabriel hooked his arm under Castiel's legs and back. Quickly, he flew them up and away, just in time it seemed, as the dark shape of Lucifer slammed into the space they had been. Gabriel flew towards the edge of the fighting, where he could sense the bright souls of the humans that had accompanied them there. The Winchesters had set up camp behind a wall of dead monsters, and Gabriel added a few more to the pile with his powers as he landed.

Balthazar flitted to his side, a jagged cut along his forehead. "What's wrong? Is Cassie ok?"

Gabriel's fingers were fumbling with the armor's leather straps, and Balthazar joined him, undoing the straps at the waist. "I dunno, something's not right, " he said desperately. "Lucifer might have gotten him with something."

Crowley swayed over, firing a few fireballs into the roiling mass of monsters, Sam and Dean just behind him. Dean spotted the three angels and hurried over, eyes wide and fearful.

Gabriel cut him off before he could start yelling. "We don't know. Lucifer might have done something."

Sam sank down beside them as well, face drawn and eyes vacant. "Gabriel…I…I have to tell you-"

"Not right now, Sam," Gabriel said curtly, sliding the heavy metal of Castiel's breastplate free. "Kinda busy."

Castiel's breathing didn't get any easier without the armor, clutching at his chest with bloodless fingers. With murmured words of comfort Dean shuffled around to pull the angel's head into his lap, running shaking and bloody fingers through his hair.

"It's gonna be ok, Cas. It's gonna be ok."

The angel looked up at him with frightened eyes, giving the hunter a tiny nod. Gabriel ripped open the leather tunic beneath the armor, flattening his hands on the heaving ribcage beneath.

"Okay," he murmured. "Okay this might sting a bit. I'm just gonna use some grace magic to find what's wrong."

Castiel reached out to clutch Gabriel's arm, nodding slightly.

"Hurr…hurry," he wheezed.

Concentrating, Gabriel reached down with his grace, tentatively touching his own to Castiel. To the humans, the archangel's hands appeared to glow with a white light; his eyes bleeding liquid gold. After a moment or two, Crowley pushed forward, ignoring Bobby's hushed whispers.

"Well?" he demanded, nervous. "Isss he alright?"

No-one was prepared as Gabriel suddenly grinned, his teeth a stark white against his bloody face as he pulled his hands away to clap them happily. "Well I'll be a son-of-a-bitch. That is just  _wildly_  inappropriate Castiel!"

Castiel was still wheezing, managing to look confused and murderous between breaths, and Dean asked the question for him, glaring over at the archangel.

"What the  _hell_  Gabe? Is he okay?"

Gabriel glanced up at the human, eyes dimming to their normal amber. "Well considering I'm about to take the career plunge of a midwife in the middle of a battle, no. But otherwise, yes."

The group fell silent, all staring with wide eyes at the archangel as the battle raged around them. Even Castiel seemed to have stopped breathing in disbelief, and Balthazar leaned over to tap him gently on the shoulder, prompting the angel to exhale shakily.

"Can you run that by me again?" Crowley asked, wriggling a finger in his ear. "I think I went momentarily deaf. Did you sssay midwife?"

Gabriel was looking at Dean, the human opening and closing his mouth like a startled goldfish. "Congrats Dean-o. You're gonna be a daddy."


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: swearing, violence, gore, mpreg( sort of, magical grace babies as per usual), canon character death, blasphemy, the usual!

The sounds of battle continued as the small assembled group all stared at Gabriel with wide eyed looks of disbelief. Dean was slowly going an interesting shade of white, Castiel staring at his brother in horror.

Crowley had paused, one finger still in his ear. "Now isssn't the besst time for joking, love."

Gabriel's eyes didn't leave Castiel's, and he smiled weakly. "For once, I'm not. Kind of wish I was."

"But it's not  _possible!"_ Balthazar pushed Crowley aside to drop heavily to his knees beside Gabriel, shaking his head. "Banging a human doesn't make fledglings! Otherwise I've got a lot of explaining to do in southern France."

Gabriel threw his hands in the air, turning to glare at his brother. "Does it look like I know? I'm not an angelic baby making encyclopedia!"

Castiel gritted his teeth, body shuddering as another wave of pain washed over him. "You're  _wrong,_ Gabriel, Lucfier must have-"

"Lucifer has nothing to do with this," Gabriel cut him off firmly, placing a hand back on Castiel's chest. The archangel's fingers glowed dimly as Castiel bit off another groan of pain and Gabriel shot him a gentle smile. "Too much of you to be him. And that little spark there…yup that's a Winchester alright."

Dean looked like he had stopped breathing. Worriedly Sam shuffled over to give him a slap on the shoulder. "Breathe Dean!"

Bobby leant down; apparently the only one not surprised by yet another weird development in their weird lives. "Why now? Shouldn't it just…arrive?"

Gabriel helped Balthazar shuck off the rest of the glimmering armor Castiel wore. "Angels don't gestate, not like humans. Giving birth, so to speak, is pretty instantaneous. Why this one is being stubborn…" Gabriel frowned, running his fingers comfortingly through Castiel's sweaty hair. "I have no idea."

With a bitten off shriek, Castiel arched upwards, eyes wild and scared. Dean snapped out of his stupor, hands grabbing the angel's shoulders to force him back down.

"What…what…" Dean swallowed heavily. "What should we do?"

Sam still had one hand on his brother's shoulder, and glanced over at Gabriel, expression horrified. "And where's it gonna come from?"

Gabriel had to stifle a nervous laugh. Now would be an inappropriate time to get an attack of the giggles. "Don't you worry your Victorian sensibilities Samantha, it's all magical grace stuff."

Crowley straightened, glancing around them worriedly. "Well baby-delivering assside which iss pretty much the freakiessst thing I've ever sssaid, we're dead in the water here."

The monsters had retreated at Gabriel's appearance, but it wouldn't be long before someone got cocky and rallied them all back. Gabriel blew damp hair from his eyes, looking up at the crossroad demon seriously.

"We need protection. I can't fight  _and_ help little bro through this."

Crowley looked crestfallen. "Let me guesss. I'm on God ssummoning duty."

Gabriel started unbuckling his own armor, wings flexing happily as they were freed. "You bet. Find whoever you can, but try finding Hel. If anyone can keep a bunch of pissed monsters away, it's her."

With an unhappy sigh, Crowley disappeared in a flume of smoke. Bobby and Balthazar both took up positions by the makeshift wall, Bobby muttering to himself  _damn angels_  as he reloaded his gun. Dean still looked terrified, and Gabriel reached out with one wing to nudge him.

"Hey, I know this is all kinds of crazy and weird, but I need you here, Dean. Mind and body. We can freak out together later. Can you do that?"

Numb jade-green eyes met his, and Gabriel was relieved when the hunter nodded at him. Castiel was panting, twisting his fingers desperately against the coarse leather of Dean's armor, and the hunter leant down to whisper something in the angel's ear. Castiel nodded weakly, taking a deep breath, eyes fluttering shut as he concentrated on calming himself.

Gabriel did the same. Ok. He could do this. It had been a while, but he could do this. No problem.

His hands were shaking as he smoothed them back over his brother's chest. "Okay so…just breathe. And uh…let it happen I guess."

He was secretly proud when Castiel opened his eyes to glare over at him with barely concealed irritation.

"I am so very relieved to have such an expert present," he gritted out between clenched teeth, and Gabriel grinned cheerily back.

"I aim to please!"

 

* * *

 

Eve was not best pleased. It had all been pretty good fun and games until Michael showed up to crash the party, with his stupid wings and stupid holy fire. Stupid archangels, ruining it for her babies like that.

She could feel her most recent creations, her proudest achievements, nearby and battling. It was a shame they hadn't been able to stretch their legs and kill a little bit more, but it turned out the horsemen weren't as pleased with their offspring as Eve was. The Mother winced as she felt her hound smash to the ground; practically feeling War's foot as it smashed into the creature's ribs. She didn't dare try and reach out to her other children, especially her Reaper. Who knew Death, the bony old bastard, was such a firecracker in battle?

No matter. That stupid Gabriel had stolen the prize of the hour, but Eve would get it  _back._ Lucifer had been so close, and Eve wasn't willing to let a little surprise like Michael or overzealous Gabriel ruin their fun. Her Alphas ran along her side as the Mother barreled through monsters and Gods alike, carving a path towards the faint glow towards the edge of battle. Silly little angel. Did he not  _know_ just how bright he really was? He couldn't hide from her.

The vampire Alpha at her side snarled lowly, and Eve heeded his throaty warning, pausing her bloody rampage. A female deity stood before her; by the smell and look of her, a Nordic one.

Her frizzy hair was stiff and matted with blood, her dark skin bruised and scratched. Her black eyes were fierce as she glared the Mother down, a gore-slick battle axe grasped in one hand. At her side two wolves snapped and growled, and Eve cocked her hip, smirking.

"What do I have here? A little musketeer looking to break herself off a piece of glory?"

The deity was unmoved. "Be silent, creature," she snapped, her fingers tightening on her axe. "You shall not pass."

Eve snorted at that, relishing the tremor of fear she could sense in the deity. Eve knew what her true form looked like, what she was. Smokin' hot for one, terrifying second. Even her own children gave her a wide berth in her true form.

It was the figure that approached from behind the deity that caught Eve's attention and the Mother smiled winningly, tongue flicking against her sharp teeth.

"Well well well. Now  _there's_ a surly mug I haven't seen for a while."

Odin didn't look impressed by her, resting one large hand on the enraged female deity's shoulder. "Be still Hel, seek out your father. He is in need of assistance."

Hel glowered at Eve one last time before nodding slightly, turning and disappearing back into the fight.

Eve sighed, rolling her shoulders and flexing her claws. "Finally alone at last hmm? Almost like old times!"

Odin glanced at her dispassionately. "So it would seem, wench."

"Wench?" Eve widened her eyes in mock horror as her Alphas growled. " _Wench?_  Oh Odin, your words wound me deeply."

The Nordic Father of All frowned at her, the spear in his hand creaking beneath his grip. "If only. You are a stain upon this world, a blight I will happily remove."

The Mother rolled her eyes. "You always were one for dramatics. Come on, just let me past. I'll be done in a jiffy, scouts honor!"

"I shall allow no such thing." Ooo his voice had that little growly thing going for it that always managed to get Eve hot and bothered. Stupid Gods and their stupid voices. Had always been one of her weak points.

Eve shrugged, picking her way over the oozing corpse of a shapeshifter. "Now  _really_  Odin. These angels aren't your kin. This isn't your fight. Why die for something that doesn't concern you?" She gestured around them. "I mean, look at what you're doing! So many Gods dead, and for what? Some little angelic spat. Silly really."

Odin did not move. "This fight is as much mine as it is theirs. Lucifer will not stop at heaven, Eve. You must know that."

Eve smiled, tongue curling flirtatiously. "I'm  _counting_  on it, baby. He's my Adam you see, and the world we're gonna create?" she smacked her lips contentedly. "It's gonna be  _awesome._ "

The Nordic God shook his head. "If you truly believe that, you are more a fool than I. And I have spent much time in the company of fools."

"Oh get off your high horse!" Eve snapped irritably, the Alphas shifting nervously beside her. "Either let me pass, or die. Makes no difference to me."

Odin wasn't the most powerful of deities, but Eve had to give the old man props, he could still pull off intimidating pretty well. "Many have lost their lives today, and many more will. Perhaps I will die as well." The golden spear moved as the God hefted it up, squaring his feet and shoulders. "But I would rather die, than allow you to kill more of my family."

Eve scowled at him in annoyance. "Fine. Your death. Don't say I didn't warn you."

She hung back as her Alphas lunged forward, wanted to watch the old fogey die in a spray of blood. She wanted to watch as that stupid defiant light in his eyes finally died as her children devoured him whole; watch the fires of loyalty and bravery, and other things generally _good,_ just seep away into the dirt. She wanted a lot of things, but Eve rarely got them.

Today was no exception.

A screaming deity with  _way_ too many hands darted into the path of Eve's Alpha shapeshifter, splicing the poor thing into so many itty bitty bits, Eve wasn't sure she could put him back together if she tried. The vampire almost made it to Odin, but got blindsided by a guy built like a freaking quarter backer who was wearing a toga of all things. All hope was pinned on the skinwalker then, but even that failed her as with a bellow, Odin shish kebabed her baby like it was nothing.

God-fucking- _dammit._

Eve growled at them all, eyes flashing and teeth impossibly sharp. "Fine. If you want something done, you have to do it your _self._ "

 

* * *

 

 

Castiel couldn't concentrate on anything but the burning fire within him. He could hear Gabriel's steady murmurs, the rhythmic touch of Dean's hands along his face and shoulders; the tiny kisses pressed against his sweaty brow. A deity had joined them, dark eyes and dark hair, and she whispered to Gabriel, things Castiel's straining ears could not hear, before disappearing back into battle.

"Come on baby brother," Gabriel urged him again, his voice seemingly so far away. "You can do it."

Castiel's wings spasmed beneath him, and he shook his head, gasping. Sweat dripped into his eyes, and he blinked against the sting. "I can't. It hurts."

Dean leant down, his breathing quick and worried. "It'll be ok Cas, I'm right here."

Castiel took comfort from that, twisting his fingers more tightly between Deans's. He could feel Gabriel's grace against his, coaxing him on, and Castiel clung to his brother fiercely. He didn't want to do this; not here, not now. Castiel had never thought of having a fledgling because it was  _impossible._ Why here? Why  _now_?

The fire burned hotter, and he bit off a scream. Gabriel was touching him with his fingers again, and he heard his brother's shaky inhale.

"Almost. Almost there kiddo."

Dean shifted above him, heart beating so loud. "What…what's going to happen?" he asked desperately, frightened and confused. Worried. For Castiel.

Blindly, and chest heaving, Castiel reached up with his free hand to touch his fingers to Dean's face. "Dean…Dean if I don't, if it-"

"Shut up, Cas," Dean snapped back at him fiercely, fingers bordering on painful as they squeezed his. "You're going to be fine."

The words Castiel had been about to say were cut off by another wall of pain. He arched off the ground, spine bending back as he stared sightlessly into space. There was a roaring in his ears, Gabriel's shouts to Dean only just audible above it.

" _Dean! Dean close your eyes! Close your eyes!"_

Then Castiel's world exploded in a blast of white light.

 

* * *

 

Sam grimaced, his borrowed blade sinking deep into the skull of what had been an incredibly pissed off werewolf. Bobby growled somewhere to his right, gun finally clicking on empty.

"Oh  _balls,_ " he managed grumpily, sliding his blade free from a holster on his thigh. "Wish I had brought more ammo."

Sam managed a weak smile over at the old hunter. "If you had brought anymore you wouldn't have been able to  _move._ "

"Ha ha," Bobby growled at him good naturedly. "Just you watch pup, there's a few tricks left in this old dog yet."

That sobered Sam immediately, and he tried not to think of pups or dogs at all. Some big skirmish was occurring further inward; looked like several Gods were battling something Sam couldn't see, and he peered over at them curiously.

"Bobby what's happen-"

He was cut off as Crowley suddenly stumbled into him in a flash of black smoke, the demon grabbing Sam by the shoulder and forcing him down towards the ground. With his other hand the demon did the same to Bobby; his hands unyielding as he grabbed their heads and thrust them down.

"Closse your eyess!" the demon yelled, ignoring Sam's struggles. " _Don't look!"_

Something akin to a bomb went off around them; a wave of sound rattling inside Sam's chest as it pushed past them. Sam opened his mouth to cry out, but Crowley just shoved his head further into the safety of the ground. Or actually, the squelching corpse of something disgusting. From behind his eyelids, Sam saw a bright flash of white light, closely followed by the enraged howls of the monsters around them.

They stayed like even as the world around them faded back to a bearable black, Sam face first in a corpse as Crowley's heart tapped a panicked tango against his back. Finally fed up, Bobby slapped the demon's hand away from him, sitting up and blinking furiously.

"And just what the goddamn hell was that?" he croaked. Sam struggled to his knees, wiping his face and grimacing.

"Dammit Crowley, what was that for?" he demanded, flicking something red and slimy away from him. "A little warning next time would be nice."

The demon's red eyes were huge glowing orbs as he reached out to grab both their chins.

"Ssshut up and look!" he growled, tugging their faces over towards where they had left the others.

Sam suddenly found he couldn't speak.

 

* * *

 

When Dean's world finally made sense again, when he could actually  _see,_ it was as if life had ground to a halt. There wasn't a fight going on, no battle for heaven or earth. There was just this. This moment, and this alone.

Cas was on his feet, black wings spread wide and proudly as he gazed down towards his arms. His eyes were huge cerulean pools of blue, his skin practically glowing. He looked…divine. Holy.

"Dean," the angel breathed, mouth stretched wide in a grin. "Dean, she is so beautiful."

He glanced towards Dean as the hunter slowly got to his feet, and Dean forced his brain to catch up with him, to…to actually  _look_.

There was a child in Cas's arms.

She looked like a toddler, and as Dean looked over at her, she let out a peal of laughter, tiny fingers grasping the air as she reached towards him. Her hair was a wild mess of wispy, ink-black hair, so much like Cas it made his chest hurt, but it was her eyes that caught him. Curious jade green eyes crinkled back at him.  _His_ eyes. Her skin was pale porcelain, like a doll, her button nose was peppered with freckles.

She was gorgeous, and she was  _his_.

"Daddy!" she beamed at him, wriggling in Cas's arms as Dean gaped at her. It was then he finally noticed the fluttering at her back, the glow he had mistaken as coming from Cas. His daughter - _oh god that was his daughter_  – wasn't quite human. From the child's back sprouted delicate, bird like angel wings; but they weren't like anything he had ever seen. They were wings but not; wisps of crimson fire that jumped and leapt as she fluttered them. Gold and silver, red and orange, they shifted as he watched them, like hot coals in a fire.

Gabriel was still on his knees, staring up at the two and looking as blindsided as Dean currently felt.

"She's…she's…."

Cas approached Dean, his eyes soft. The girl in his arms giggled, eyes dancing as Cas brought her close enough to finally get her little hands on Dean. Automatically he reached for her, and she crooned at him as he gathered her numbly to his chest, pressing her cheek to his as she patted his face happily.

"Daddy," she repeated to herself, her wild hair tickling his nose as she kept up her patting, and Dean suddenly found himself choking back tears. Smiling, Cas leant forward to press a kiss to her cheek, nose bumping Dean's.

"Yes, beloved," the angel murmured.

It was the deadly silence around them that finally snapped them out of it, and Dean looked around, hands tightening possessively on the little body in his arms. Immediately around them the fighting had ceased; Gods, demons and monsters all staring at them in awe. He recognized Odin, face scratched and bloody, and as he watched, the God fell to one knee, bowing his head respectfully. Beside him, a creature that would probably haunt Dean's nightmares for a while, gaped at them. Dean passed his daughter back to Cas, snapping back to hunter mode.

"Cas you gotta get out of here," he hissed. "Get her somewhere safe, we'll keep them back until you ca-"

"Dean," it was Gabriel's voice who cut him off, the archangel still on his knees; wings spread either side of him as if just dropped carelessly. "She's in no danger."

Dean glared over at him. "No danger? This is a goddamn  _battlefield_ , Gabe!"

Gabriel's eyes were dreamy as he glanced back at Castiel. "It's ok. She's…she's…"

"Phoenix."

It was the creepy looking harpy that said it out loud, and with gasps and worried murmurs, the monsters around her sank to their knees.

Ah. Eve.

Castiel turned to her, tucking the girl firmly against his hip. His eyes were cold as he looked over at the Mother of All, and beneath his gaze, she also sank slowly to her knees.

"It's over then," the Mother said bitterly. Despite Dean's worried whispers, Castiel slowly approached her, the girl in his arms watching Eve curiously. The Mother of All smiled weakly at her, mouth stretched wide around her sharp teeth, yet the girl didn't seem afraid.

"I knew this day would come eventually. I just didn't…" Eve shrugged, breathing out a nervous chuckle. "I didn't think you would be so _small."_

The girl laughed, a bright noise in the dark as her wings fluttered in delight at her back. As if she  _understood._ The kneeling monsters around them all shuddered, keeping their eyes to the ground.

Eve sighed. "Well I had a good run. May you live a long and healthy life, princess." The Mother glanced up at Castiel then, chuckling at the cold look of fury the angel gave her. "And be good for your Daddy. Kid's been through a lot."

The girl cocked her head curiously, looking up at her father and patting his cheek comfortingly. Pulling away from him then, she reached out towards Eve, little fingers grasping the air. After a moment's hesitation, Castiel moved forward, allowing his daughter to touch Eve's head. The flames from her wings jumped, burning a brighter red, and the Mother closed her eyes as her skin crackled, burning up from the inside. She didn't utter a sound, even as her body turned to ash, her bones nothing but dust that floated away on the breeze.

The monsters backed away, whining, withdrawing towards the main body of fighting that was still ongoing. The girl smiled at them cheerily, waving her hand at them.

"Bu-bye!" she called happily, wings flapping against Cas's chest as he smiled down at her. Dean blinked in surprise at the fleeing monsters, at the smoldering corpse of Eve.

Holy shit his daughter was awesome.

Dean grinned stupidly, unable to do anything but sway drunkenly as Sam moved towards him, wrapping him in a bear hug.

"I'm an Uncle," Sam mumbled numbly against his shoulder, blinking hard. Dean grinned into space, squeezing his brother tight.

"I'm a Dad."

Another body joined them, and neither brother thought twice about moving their arms around to embrace the third. Bobby grinned at them both, eyes unusually wet and voice thick.

"Have I ever mentioned that you two are idjits?"

Dean laughed, hugging his father-figure to him. "And that's why you love us… _Grandpa._ "

 

* * *

 

Castiel smiled over at the embracing humans, shaking his head with a chuckle. His daughter wrapped her arms around his neck, planting a wet kiss on his cheek with a happy murmur. Gabriel was grinning as he approached, tentatively reaching to brush her wings gently with a finger.

"She's beautiful, kiddo," he murmured. "Congrats."

Castiel shifted the child in his arms, pressing an apologetic kiss to her head as she pouted at him. "What is she Gabriel?" he asked quietly. "Eve could only be killed by a phoenix."

Gabriel shook his head. "I don't know. How this happened and why…I have no idea." He smiled then, tickling the girl's bare foot playfully. She squealed, slapping his hand away with contented giggles.

The earth shook beneath their feet, and Castiel cast a worried glance towards the horizon. "The battle is not yet over. Michael and Lucifer still fight."

Gabriel scowled in the same direction. "This is like a bad Jerry Springer episode. Urgh. Maybe if I get Raphael, the three of us can push him back into the pit. It's worth a try."

He turned away, walking back to where he had dropped his armor, stooping to pick it up with a grimace. "Man I am sore in places I haven't used in ye-"

Castiel frowned at his brother as the archangel just froze, staring into space. "Gabriel? Are you alright?"

It was the wounded moan that clawed its way from the archangel's throat that had Castiel clutching his daughter to him worriedly; half expecting Lucifer to appear and snatch her away. But there was no abomination reaching for him, only Gabriel dropping his armor back down, his blade thrown aside as he ran on shaking legs away.

"Gabriel!" Castiel shouted, drawing the attention of the others as he hurried after him. The archangel ignored them all, knees slamming into the hard ground as he fell before the form of a giant troll; hands shoving the corpse away forcefully. Castiel could hear his brother's anguished murmurs as he pulled a black figure into his lap, hands running over it again and again.

As he neared, Castiel's heart plummeted as he recognized the shaggy head of Fenrir. Gabriel was bent over him, rocking as he cradled the wolf's large head in his lap, murmuring his name over and over. The wolf's amber eyes were dull and glassy; no longer bright with life.

The others approached, Dean pressing in close against his back.

"He died saving Sam," the hunter murmured into his ear. "Sam tried to tell him but…"

It was heartbreaking to watch Gabriel suffer so. Castiel tried to turn away, to give his brother some privacy in his grief, but the fledgling in his arms struggled against him. She babbled excitedly, hands outstretched towards the grieving archangel and tiny wings beating against his arms. Castiel frowned, shifting her close against him.

"No beloved," he told her quietly. "Gabriel must grieve."

She harrumphed at him, green eyes glittering as she resumed her pointing and wriggling. Castiel gave in, slowly walking towards his brother, the babbling fledgling in his arms. Gabriel's shoulders were shaking as Castiel slowly sank down beside his brother.

"I am sorry Gabriel," he managed, trying not to look down at the stiff form of what had been a member of his family.

Gabriel was crying, wretched sobs that wracked his body as he continued his rocking back and forth. "Why him?" he choked out. "It should have been  _me_. Not…not my puppy." The archangel looked up at Castiel then, eyes red. "Not my  _son._ "

Ignoring them both and humming happily to herself, Castiel's fledgling reached out before he could stop her, twisting her tiny fingers in the gore stiffened fur in Gabriel's arms. Castiel tried to pull her back, but she held firm with a sudden strength that surprised him. Her humming grew louder, and Castiel could only stare as the flames of her wings jumped, racing across her back and along her skin. It traveled down her arms towards Fenrir, leaping from her fingers to entwine in the black fur. Gabriel raised his head to stare in disbelief as the fire consumed the wolf in his arms, glowing as bright as a star in the night sky. Before their eyes, the wounds along the wolf's side healed, his spine clicking back into place with a sickening crack. His fur smoothed, no longer matted and gore slick.

And with a deep grinding snort; Fenrir moved.

His amber eyes erupted back into life with the same fire that had coursed along his body, and as the tendrils of fire receded, his chest rose and fell with a shudder. With a deep sigh, Fenrir rolled to his belly, blinking around himself, and then up at Gabriel.

" _Father?"_ he asked worriedly, voice raspy and low. " _Father are you well?"_

With a happy laugh, Gabriel grabbed the wolf around the neck, tugging him close and burying his face into the thick shaggy fur of his neck.

"Oh I am better than alright you big ol' bag of fleas. Don't you  _dare_ do that to me again!" Confused but very much alive, Fenrir allowed the cuddle, turning his gaze to Castiel.

" _I am…befuddled."_

The fledgling in his arms laughed, reaching out to grab the wolf's snout in her small hands as she babbled to him in the speech of the very young. Fenrir stared down into her eyes, melting beneath her touch and smiling. His tail beat a rhythmic beat against the ground and he crooned back to her, much to the girl's delight.

"What…what the hell wasss that?" Came Crowley's strained voice from behind them.

"You just witnessed a bonafide miracle, boys and girls."

Everyone jumped, turning to stare at Death, the horseman just as ripped up and dirty looking as the rest of them. By his side cowered one of Eve's monsters, and Balthazar yelped fearfully, back peddling away. Death shot an amused glance over at him.

"Calm yourself. Without Eve, the creatures now only answer to their other creator."

The creature at his side whined, pressing itself close against the horseman's legs.

"Dude. _Creepy_ ," Dean hissed.

Death shrugged. "Takes one to know one, Winchester."

Castiel straightened, cradling his daughter against him. "You said a miracle. What do you know?"

Death ignored him, glancing at his wrist as if looking at a watch. He sighed heavily, looking back up, directly at the girl in Castiel's arms.

"About time. You left it a bit late don't you think?"

The girl merely laughed, eyes sparkling as she flapped her tiny wings, one little hand tugging on Castiel's hair and nuzzling her nose along his jaw with a croon. Gabriel released Fenrir, rising to his feet as he glared Death down.

"What are you talking about?" he growled, wings twitching with aggravation. "What is she?"

Death raised an eyebrow at him, crossing his arms. "You didn't figure it out? Duh, Gabriel. She's  _God_."

In the silence that followed the horseman's words, the faint screeches and yells of two fighting archangel's could be heard.

"But she…she's mine," Castiel managed bewilderedly. "She's  _Dean's,_  I can sense the imprint of his soul within her."

Death smiled. "Michael wasn't wrong you know. Lucifer killed God all those years ago when he forced you into being." Death leant down to touch the creature against his side, scratching the thing behind its bat-like ears as it purred happily. "Killed  _that_ life at least. But God can be reborn, Castiel. He hid what was left of Himself inside  _you,_  just a little piece. And waited for the day He could be reborn."

Death smiled at the girl, and the warmth in his flat eyes was genuine. "As yours. Lucifer killed Him with greed Castiel, but you birthed Him with love. Well. Her. A new beginning. From the ashes rises something better; a phoenix of the best kind."

"You knew?" Balthazar asked, voice strangled. "You knew all along?"

"Of course," Death grinned. "I'm  _Death_. I was there when it happened."

Dean took an aggressive step forward, but Sam stopped him with firm hand. "And you didn't think to mention that at all?" he bit out, teeth clenched. "Maybe give us a heads up?"

Death shrugged. "Like I said, there are rules. You did just fine on your own."

The fledgling was blowing bubbles with her spit, eyes crossed in the effort to watch as she snorted like a horse. Death watched her bemusedly.

"She chose to be reborn as a mortal. To experience life through your eyes." Those flat black eyes found Castiel's again. "But she is _yours_ , Castiel. Yours to raise, yours to teach. It is a new beginning for us all, and God help us…" The horseman winked at the giggling girl. "We won't cock it up this time."

There was another distant roar, and Death glanced towards it, sighing heavily. "And we better go take care of those two knuckleheads before they make any more of a mess than they already have."

Castiel took a step back, shaking his head. "I am not putting my daughter anywhere near Lucifer," he growled. "Even if what you say is true."

The girl in his arms fell silent then, twisting her little body around to press her face into his neck. Castiel ran a shaking hand down her back, watching the flames of her wings twist around his fingers. It didn't matter what Death said; this was his fledgling and he would protect her with his life.

Death actually looked…sympathetic. "I understand this is…confusing. But you need to trust me, Castiel. I promise you that I will not allow any harm to come to her."

"Aren't there rulesss?" Crowley bit out sarcastically.

The horseman merely smiled. "Some can be broken."


	28. Chapter 28

Michael twisted his body, wings stretched wide and straining as he ducked beneath his brother's arm, the metal of his blade clanging loudly as it collided with the slashing talons reaching for his face. Shoving his weight against his blade, he pushed away, narrowly avoiding a blow aimed towards his wings.

He could scarcely believe the creature before him was a brother he had once loved. Lucifer was bright no longer; now dark and twisted, he bled corruption in oily tendrils. His once beautiful wings that Michael had spent so many hours grooming were gone, wasted away to nothing. This was a monster, an abomination, where no grace could survive.

_And yet…_

Michael side stepped a lunge, his body remembering the fine movements of battle; a dance he had once excelled at. He felt the soft skin of his cheek slice open as those talons sought him out, and blood splattered onto the dry dirt beneath them. Avoiding the worst of the blow as he pivoted on his heel, his feather tips brushed against the waxy skin of Lucifer's and he recoiled.

There remained a part of him that harbored hope that his brother was not completely lost. A false hope perhaps, but it flickered within him resolutely. A tiny spark within an empty abyss.

"What's the matter Michael?" the creature before him hissed, shadows undulating a sinful dance. "Don't like what you see? This is  _your_ doing after all."

Gritting his teeth as he dodged those lethal talons, Michael pressed his advantage, forcing Lucifer back a pace with his blade.

Michael had spent years; decades and centuries regretting that single moment where Lucifer had slipped through his grasp. The moment where he had failed in his duty as protector, failed as an archangel, and failed as a brother. He could remember the brush of straining finger tips against his own, Lucifer's eyes so very wide and disbelieving as his wings turned to ash upon the wind. Disbelieving Michael had actually done it; had conjured the holy fire that consumed Lucifer whole as he fell from heaven into a hell of his own making. And Michael had felt a shiver of…of… _satisfaction._ For a moment, Michael was  _glad_ he had hurt Lucifer so, had punished him for past sins.

He had failed. In the end, he was no better than his brother. Lucifer had been Michael's sin for so long, and now this dark creature before him, this…this abomination was  _his_  doing. It was the result of Michael's inability, his own failures and darkest secrets.

No more. No longer would Michael allow himself to wallow in failure and pity. If they were one another's sin, then they were also their only hope for salvation.

"The blame falls on us both." Michael shoved his brother away, wings arcing above his shoulders threateningly. "But it was your vanity and pride that led you down this path, Lucifer. But it is not too late, you can still-"

" _Shut up!_ " The words were laced with poison and loathing, and Michael staggered under their vulgarity as Lucifer straightened, his dead wings flapping uselessly. "I don't want to hear your pious preaching!"

Michael bared his teeth in a snarl, flames racing between his feathers. "Perhaps if you  _listened_ you would finally understand!" he shouted, and the earth trembled beneath his feet. "Perhaps if you cared for something beyond yourself, you would stop this!"

His only answer was an enraged screech, and Michael threw himself to the side, tucking himself into a roll. His bare feet scrabbled in the scorched earth as he straightened, blade held in front of him warningly.

"Was it worth it Lucifer?" He gestured around them towards the watching monsters, ignoring the slick slide of blood slowly trickling down his ruined cheek. "Was it worth killing Father to gain all this glory?  _Tell me!_ "

Lucifer crouched low to the ground, the dark cavities of his eyes swirling with malice. "Worth it? Was it  _worth it_ when you cast me down? Ripped my wings to shreds and cast me into that dark, cold place?"

Michael anticipated the move, but still stifled a pained yell as Lucifer slammed into his front; his blade skittering away in a plume of dust. The air was punched from his lungs as serrated talons dug into the unprotected flesh of his side; separating muscle. Michael could feel the darkness latch onto him, the dank corruption wiggling it's putrid tendrils into his skin. Lucifer snapped at him, the sweet cloy of decay forcing him to gag, and Michael reared back, wings flapping furiously. He could feel the slight scrape of teeth against his throat as Lucifer attempted to bite him again, but with a mighty push of his wings, the archangel broke free, stumbling back.

The devil grinned at him. "Think you can save me? Think you can bring me back to the  _light_  or something?"

His chest was heaving, and Michael struggled to straighten, pain lancing along his side. His blade was too far away to grab easily, and he cursed silently.

"I do," he finally muttered. "You can be saved, Lucifer."

His brother laughed, and it sounded like a thousand screams. "So optimistic. Guess the rumors about you were wrong, big brother. You're not  _all_  impotent."

Michael stifled a scream as he pressed a hand to his ripped side, teeth grinding against the pain. "And the rumors of you were very much true."

Lucifer shrugged. "What can I say? Folks just love to hate the bad guy." The devil drew a fist to his mouth, long tongue curling obscenely around one bloody claw as he sucked it into his mouth. He smacked his dead lips happily, now stained with blood.  _Michael's_ blood.

"Would you look at that," the devil smirked. "You taste pretty much the same,  _lover_."

Michael was shaking, fury lighting him up from within. He couldn't lose himself to this…this  _thing._  Lucifer had lost himself to it many years ago, but Michael could not afford to do the same. It was a poison, slow and deliberate, and it had taken root in Lucifer so utterly, so completely, it was a part of him. The creature before Michael was the devil, not an angel. Not a brother.

But poison could be drawn from a wound. And Michael would not let his brother slip through his fingers again.

"Lucifer, look around you!" he yelled, as the earth rumbled beneath them both. "If you must hate me then let it be so. Leave the world out of this. This dispute is  _ours_ and ours alone."

"Oh I beg to differ." The devil straightened with a dark chuckle. "Look at them all, Michael. Little insignificant monkeys. Gods, monsters, humans…They all go about their pathetic lives the same way. They're  _sheep_ , living under the thumb of an absent shepherd. And they all mewl and bleat for someone to tell them what to do, to tell them how to live, how to  _die._  I'm doing them a favor really." He advanced again, but Michael held his ground.

"You wanted me to be just like them. Brainless. Spineless." The shadows promised untold horrors. "And this little black sheep said  _no_. You couldn't stand it."

Michael stared unflinchingly into the abyss his brother had lost himself to. "You are  _wrong._  We are not a brainless flock. We are a  _family,_ little brother, and you have strayed far from us, out into the cold wastes." With more conviction then he felt, Michael took a step forward, his flames of holy fire crackling warningly at the shadows that moved slickly towards him. "And even if it takes me a lifetime, I will find you, Lucifer. I will save you and I will bring you home. To me."

For a brief moment, Michael thought he saw something within the abyss. Something light in the dark. A weak flutter of wings.

The night sky above them erupted into white light, the monsters around them shrieking in confusion, and the abyss folded itself back into place. Distracted by the light, Michael was unprepared as Lucifer grabbed him, one fist seizing the base of his wings, the other wrapping around his throat and dragging him forward. Michael struggled futilely, the pain in his wings forcing a shocked yell from his lips. The iron band around his neck tightened, choking off his cry as he was wrenched up against Lucifer's body. Darkness pulsed against his chest, mocking the panicked beat of Michael's heart.

"Guess what?" the devil snarled into his face as Michael struggled. "I don't  _want_ to be saved."

He could feel the warm flow of blood down his back; trickling wetly from his wings. Michael's fire snapped and spluttered at the shadows beginning to overpower them, the glow slowly beginning to dim from the archangel's wings. Dully, Michael noticed the monsters around them were turning; fleeing away with frightened screeches. Lucifer paid them no heed, tightening his hold and forcing a pained grunt from his brother.

"How does it feel Michael?" the devil whispered to him as Michael stared wide eyed into his own destruction. "Oh the  _things_ I'll show you. I'll show you the true meaning of pain, brother. And I'll make you  _beg_ for it."

Michael sucked in a burning breath, forcing himself to stare into that awful face. "I'm… I'm sorry," he bit out, voice strangled as the claws dug bloody trenches in his neck. "Kn...know that I forgave you. Many…years ago."

His vision greyed as his air was cut off in a furious grip. "I don't need your apologies or forgiveness," Lucifer spat, breath hot and putrid against Michael's face. "I just need you to _suffer_."

Michael slumped in the devil's grasp, eyes wide and staring into the darkness, even as it began to consume him. It pulsed along his skin, writhing into his very flesh. It whispered atrocities, promised pleasure and pain, glory and power. It cleaved him open, and a thousand terrible voices screamed their approval as the shadows forced their way into his body. They pulsed inside him, obscene fingers behind his eyes, twisting into his mind and grace.

All the while, Michael kept his eyes open. The darkness was impenetrable, and it whispered so to him, urged him to submit, to fall into its oily depths. It hurt him. It wanted him. It was a thousand tortures in one single moment. His skin sliced open, his veins torn from his body. His flesh peeled from his bones, his mouth rendered to bloody pulp, yet Michael did not make a sound.

Michael kept his eyes open. He kept them trained on the darkness, searching. He could see it, even as his eyes dissolved in their sockets, as he was flayed and ripped asunder. A tiny flicker in the black, delicate wings that fluttered weakly against a glass cage as Michael sank deeper and deeper into the abyss. A tiny and broken thing that was so lost it could barely be found.

But Michael had found it. He reached out towards it, and the darkness hissed at him, the abyss closing in around him tighter. It spoke but did not, a thousand voices that said nothing, yet screamed. It promised him everything.

" _I do not want anything you could ever provide,"_  Michael told it, and the shadows howled their outrage.  _"I want my brother, and I am taking him."_

It tried to stop him, to burn him away, to freeze him. It stabbed and slashed and threatened, but Michael could not be stopped. His fingers wrapped around the tiny thing, it's paper thin wings soft against his fingers. The shadows tugged on it, refusing to surrender such a prize that had been given to them so willingly.

And Michael was so tired. So weak.

 _Father,_ he thought dreamily, the darkness pushing slick fingers into his heart and tugging him deeper into its embrace.  _Father I found him. Forgive him Father, as I have. I love him. Save him._

Light splintered through the darkness like lightning, a high voice laughing, pure and loud. Michael felt the shadows slip from him, wailing. Tiny wings beat against his fingers in a panic, but Michael kept a hold of them, even as the abyss retreated.

Feeling flooded his body, pain, but  _real_ pain, and Michael blinked back into consciousness. Lucifer was staring at him, and the devil took a step back as the shadows screamed.

"What..."

Michael snapped his wings wide; dislodging the painful claws and slammed his shoulder into Lucifer's chest. Startled, Lucifer staggered backwards, and Michael took the opportunity to grab his brother by the neck, fingers sinking into the sunken flesh as he slammed the devil to the ground.

Lucifer howled, thrashing in an attempt to dislodge him but Michael bore down on him, digging his knee between the dead wings before him.

"No," Michael's voice was firm, resolved, and the devil stopped moving. "No more."

 

* * *

 

Monsters were fleeing in all directions. Gabriel watched them go gleefully, Eve's death rippling through them all and destroying what little courage they had ever actually had. It was pretty fun to watch, especially when Fenrir decided to give them a quick start by nipping at their heels. Raphael landed in a crack of lightning, hair disheveled and face splattered with blood.

"Lucifer will destroy Michael," she ground. "We must hurry to try…and…" She trailed off as she noticed the child in Castiel's arms, cocking her head curiously.

"Castiel. You have a…"

Death strode by her, crooking a finger at her in a clear 'follow' motion. "Later, Raphael. We have some business to attend to."

The fledgling in Castiel's arms clapped her hands together happily, twisting to look up at her Sire curiously. Castiel smiled down at her, and Gabriel felt like bursting into song, or doing a little dance. Anything to get these ridiculous mushy feelings out. He felt drugged, floating on a cloud, and he smiled dreamily as Fenrir trotted back to his side, pressing his large bulk tightly against Gabriel's side.

Raphael shot a disbelieving look towards him as she fell into step behind Death. "You have much to explain, horseman."

Death shrugged dismissively as he stepped over several corpses. As the monsters fled before them, Gods began to turn towards them, joining their strange march forward.

"Buy me a drink sometime and maybe I'll oblige."

The earth quaked as they drew closer to the epicenter of ground zero, and Gabriel moved closer to Castiel, wings fluttering nervously. Dean walked alongside, expression shell-shocked, but shoulders squared and resolved. Gabriel had to give the guy props. Got dragged out of hell, fell in love with an angel, had to potentially be a vessel, had to fight a war against impossible odds, then helped create God. It was enough to make  _Gabriel's_ head hurt, let alone a human's.

As Castiel picked his way over the dead body of a troll, the fledgling let out a high pitched laugh, and for a moment, Gabriel was sure he saw something leave her; something bright and glorious.

But then it was gone, and the girl resumed her solemn blowing of spit bubbles.

The smart monsters had already retreated; those that stayed were butchered by the enraged Gods as they swept forward. The bodies littering the ground grew thicker as they continued forward, until they at last reached the arena where the fate of the world had been decided.

Michael was waiting for them as they approached, Lucifer struggling feebly beneath him. Gabriel grinned cheerily, digging his fingers into Fenrir's fur.

"Looks like we missed the big fight huh?"

Michael smiled wearily at him, and Gabriel could read the relief and gratitude in his eyes as the archangel looked between him and Castiel. "Gabriel. I…thank you."

Raphael threw her hands in the air, eyes flashing as she stalked forward. "Would someone  _kindly_ inform me as to what is going on?" she demanded. "I do not much care for ignorance!"

Michael chuckled, and Gabriel knew then that it was going to be ok. That somehow, and he didn't know how, they had done it. They had won. "Raphael. How I have missed your sensible ways, sister."

Death nodded to the tired archangel. "Glad you could make it Michael. Been a bit of a mess without you."

Michael looked like…well  _hell_. Bloody gouges marred his pale throat and stained his wings that drooped tiredly down his back as he slowly straightened. Lucifer hissed weakly, and Michael placed a bloody foot on him warningly. The devil stilled, amazingly staying where he had fallen.

Death looked down at him, smirking. "Well. Now who's the leashed one? Let me just savor this for a moment."

The assembled Gods parted, and Pestilence, followed by his two other brothers, emerged. All three horsemen were covered in viscera from head to toe. Gabriel felt a twinge of fear as he noticed the creatures on their heels, but it seemed Eve's children now only answered to their fathers. War looked creeped out as the large fire hound leant up against his side, looking up at him adoringly, and the horseman tried to subtly inch away.

Pestilence glanced at the fallen devil, then up at Death. "You can savor it at home," he said wearily. "Let's be done with this mess."

War wrinkled his nose, shaking his leg in a subtle attempt to shake off his rather large canine admirer. "So did we win? Can I go now?"

Michael glanced over at Death, and the horseman sighed. "Fine." With an irritated mumble, the horseman reached into his ruined suit jacket, long fingers fishing around for a moment. With a small grunt, he slowly pulled his hand free. As he opened his fist, Gabriel could see the four rings of the horsemen nestled securely in his palm. Death glanced over at Michael.

"Am I to assume you managed to get it?"

For a moment Michael merely stood there. Then slowly, reverently, he held up a clenched fist. Death grinned, all teeth and black eyes.

"Excellent. Now if you all don't mind, I need a bit of room." The sound of scuffing feet as a bunch of angels and Gods obeyed was enough to send Gabriel into a giggle fit, but he managed to contain it.

Death glanced over towards them all. "Except Castiel and the fledgling."

Dean bristled, jaw clenching. "Just what are you gonna do?"

Death rolled his eyes, waving him away dismissively."Nothing your human mind would understand."

With comforting whispers, Sam drew Dean back as Castiel slowly walked forward. The fledgling in his arms was quiet, watching Death with wide green eyes. Gabriel stayed where he was, jumping slightly as Raphael slid into his space. His sister looked worried, and Gabriel didn't say anything as he felt her hand slip into his, merely giving her a reassuring squeeze.

Death crouched low to the ground, staring down at the dark thing Michael had defeated. "You know who I am."

The creature didn't look at him. "Cease the theatrics. If you're going to do it,  _do it._ "

Death looked positively gleeful. "I was hoping you would say that."

What happened next was hard for even Gabriel to process. It was old magic, magic Gabriel himself had never seen. Using the power of the rings, Death did the impossible, and Gabriel could feel the shift in the air, his grace shivering. Death was absolute. Death did not care for corruption, or hate. Death was the end of all things, evil and good, and Gabriel watched as the creature died before him; it's dark life force ebbing away as Death took what belonged to him. Raphael shuddered beside him, her bloody face now stained with tears, and with a heavy heart Gabriel realized he was watching his brother, what was left of him, die.

With a final gasp, the creature thudded to the ground, nothing but an empty husk. Death pulled away to stare down at it curiously, before motioning to the still angels beside him.

"Alright, Castiel. Bring her here."

The angel paused for a moment, uncertainty flickering across his face. Michael smiled over at him, opening his arms.

"Do not fear little brother. I will hold her."

It was a testament to how awesome Gabriel's parenting skills were really, when Castiel nodded slowly, handing the quiet fledgling to Michael with open trust. The archangel shifted the small girl in his arms, slowly sinking to his knees beside the still form on the ground. As the world watched, Michael whispered something into the girl's ear, slowly opening his clenched fist before her.

There, in the palm of his hand, was a moth. It was a drab little thing, one wing bent at a strange angle, the other torn and ragged looking. It cowered in Michael's hand, antennae twitching nervously. The girl watched it with wide eyes, reaching out to poke at it cautiously. The moth withstood the inspection, ratty wings shivering. Happy with its reaction, the fledgling turned to babble something quietly in Michael's ear, who smiled and nodded.

Scrunching her little face, she reached forward again, gentler this time. Michael helped move the moth onto her small hand, and she cupped it carefully as she brought it towards her face. Gabriel watched, mouth dry and heart pounding as she studied it. Then, like a candle suddenly lit in a dark room, she smiled brightly and leant forward to plant a gentle kiss on its tiny shaking body.

If Gabriel had thought that the fledgling's birth had been earth shattering, this was a shattering of  _worlds._  Gabriel had to shield his own eyes as the night turned to day; white light eliminating any trace of the black as Raphael clung to his hand with a death grip.

When he could actually  _see_ again, Gabriel had to stifle a yell of shock. There, where the monster the world had known as the  _devil_  had lain only moments before...lay his brother, unconscious. The Morningstar. Lucifer's glossy black wings were spread either side of him, lined with shimmering silver flame Gabriel hadn't seen in so long. His blond hair was clean, his body unscarred and new. Michael straightened from his crouch, turning to smile at a frozen Castiel.

"Castiel," the archangel's voice was soft, the love in his eyes genuine as he moved the fledgling in his arms. "You…" He swallowed heavily. "I…I have no words for what I owe you."

In his arms, the girl harrumphed at him, squirming to wrap her small arms around his neck. Michael laughed, wings fluffing with pleasure as he rubbed his cheek against her hair.

"And you as well…." he paused, pulling back to squint at her playfully. "I suppose Father is an odd name for you now, is it not?"

The fledgling grinned at him, reaching up to grab his ears in either hand, tugging his face close to hers. With a contented purr, she rubbed her tiny nose against his, and Michael sighed shakily, pressing a kiss to her cheek as he pulled away.

He handed her back to a speechless Castiel, his hand lingering on the younger angel's arm before pulling away.

"You did it, Castiel," he smiled. "You united our family."

Castiel looked winded as he settled the girl in his arms. "I…I don't understand."

Death dusted himself down, tugging to straighten his jacket. "Welcome to the club of mysteries," he muttered. "If I had known all the hassle this stupid plan would cause, I'd never have agreed."

The horseman turned to point half-heartedly at the girl. "You hear me? Next time you have a crazy scheme, don't get me involved."

Unrepentant and unaware, the girl merely smiled at him cheerily.

Raphael hurried forward, surprising everyone by slinging her arms around Michael's shoulders and burying her face into his neck. Michael froze for a moment, before his whole body relaxed, wings moving to touch hers.

"Brother," her voice was muffled, thick with tears. "It is…good to see you again."

Gabriel should probably be participating in this feeling-a-thon. With self-assured steps he moved forward, cheekily batting at Michael's wing with his own.

"If it's all the same to you, I've used up my family angst on my furball already."

Michael smiled bemusedly as he pulled away from Raphael. "I missed you as well Gabriel. I'm glad you are with us once again."

The angels were startled as Dean stomped over to stand beside Castiel, arms crossed and expression stormy.

"Alright. I'm not moving until someone gives me a straight answer!" he threatened. "What was that, why is the devil suddenly all pretty, and for the love of G-" He trailed off, looking over at his daughter, currently engrossed in playing with Castiel's hair. He lowered his voice. "For the love of  _something,_ why do Cas and I have an angel love baby?"

Michael glanced down towards the unconscious Lucifer, crouching down to trail his fingers gently against his brother's slack cheek.

"Perhaps I am not the best to ask, Dean Winchester," he said quietly. "I am merely thankful that it did happen."

Death sighed tiredly, rubbing his temples. "Is it really all that important to you human? Everyone's happy, let's go home."

"And get drunk!" Balthazar helpfully supplied, Crowley turning to give him an affection slap on the shoulder in agreement.

Dean took a step forward, eyes flashing. "It actually is."

Death threw his arms into the air, eyes beseeching the heavens. "What is there to get? A long time ago an old friend came to me and said "Death, you know what, my kids are going to go ape-shit insane and I don't want to stop them. They need to learn about free will and responsibility and grown up things, but a lot of bad stuff will probably happen." "

The horseman glanced over at Castiel, eyes flicking between the angel and Dean. "But there would be someone who would bring balance to the Force. In particular some _ones._ So Han Solo and Luke Skywalker fell in love and blew up the death star and saved Darth Vader and everyone cheered. The End."

Gabriel grinned over at the horseman. "Tiredness makes you snarky. I like it."

Castiel frowned, glancing down at the fledgling. "So…my fledgling is God. He has been reborn, and He has also restored Lucifer."

Death made a despairing noise. "Yes. Sort of. She's God but not as He was. She's something  _new._ Hopefully improved."

"That makes a whole lotta nonsense," Bobby interjected, and Death merely shrugged at him.

"Take it up with my lawyer. I did my part."

Gabriel laughed, high and carefree. He felt like he could take on the world. "Oh Dean-o don't you see? Forget the rest of it, this is your _daughter._ So she's special. Of course she is. Anything popping out of Castiel has to be."

"And that?" Dean gestured towards Lucifer impatiently. "That's the  _devil._ You know, bad guy that we've been fighting? How come he gets a free outta jail card?"

"He doesn't," Michael said quietly. Carefully, he gathered Lucifer's unconscious form against his chest; the Morningstar's wings trailing in the dirt as he straightened. "I managed to salvage what little was left of Lucifer's grace. It will be a long and arduous journey of atonement before he can be considered an archangel once more."

He smiled at Castiel. "But it will happen. I have faith."

Snapping out of his stupor, Castiel took a worried step forward. "Where will you go?" He asked, brows knitting together with worry. "What if Lucifer is still corrupt-"

"He is not," Michael interrupted gently. "And as for where we shall go…I do not know. For a while we both have much to discuss. Much to work through."

He glanced over at Raphael and Gabriel. "But we will return. This I promise you. I believe heaven is safe in the care of my siblings."

Raphael looked stricken. "Michael…I…" she took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders as she slipped back into soldier mode. "Take care of him, brother."

Michael nodded. "Of course," He glanced back towards Castiel, shifting Lucifer in his arms. "I will see you again my fledgling. And we will speak of many things."

Then, with a smile, Michael wings pushed down and the archangel was gone.

For a moment, everyone stood in silence. The girl murmured to herself, snuggling her face into Castiel's throat, and the spell was broken.

Sam grinned over at his brother, winking. "Hey Dean, your love stopped an apocalypse."

Gabriel burst out laughing as Dean groaned. "Oh don't you  _dare_ Sam…"

"It's the power of loooove!"

"I will murder everyone you love, starting with myself."

Gabriel bounced over towards Castiel, reaching out to tickle the girl's foot. "Your Daddy is a real drama king you know that kiddo?"

She laughed at him, batting his fingers away. His chest felt all gooey and he had the irrational urge to smell her and see if she had that new fledgling smell.

"Oh man," he sighed wistfully. "I want one."

He glanced wickedly over at Sam who was still busy taunting Dean with song, and the tall Winchester faltered on the chorus, eyes widening.

"Oh no. Don't look at me."

Gabriel advanced with a wicked gleam in his eye. "Come on Sammy boy," he wheedled. "Just lie back and think of your laptop or something. I'll do all the work."

"Dean! Deean!" Sam took off hollering, tripping over monster corpses, an archangel hot on his heels.

His brother watched him go, a smile tugging at his mouth.

"He's just teasing Sam!" he called after his brother. Balthazar snorted, shooting a look at Castiel, who smiled and shook his head. Dean looked over at his angel, eyebrows high.

"Right, Cas?"

Castiel hoisted their daughter higher on his hip, picking his way through the dead monsters. Dean followed closely behind.

"Right, Cas? RIGHT?"

The girl's laughs and Sam's shrieks for mercy echoed across the battlefield. The battle had been won.


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: incestuous relationships (kind of... angels, man. So confusing :P), het pairing, pregnancy, fluff.

They named her Michelle.

He had looked up the meaning behind the name, and found it meant "Who is like God." It seemed appropriate. Dean liked it because they didn't know anyone named that already, and Cas got to call her El, apparently one of the female names for God that Dean really didn't want to think too much about.

As soon as they had left the Veil, her wings had slowly disappeared, until Dean couldn't see them anymore. Sometimes he thought he could, if he squinted hard and stared at the space just above her shoulder blades. Shadows of fire that she sometimes forgot to hide. Cas could see them though, and would describe them to him sometimes; how they'd act when she was happy or sad. He felt left out initially, felt so weakly mortal compared to the two beings he loved most, but over time he developed his own way of reading her, built his own secret language with his daughter.

Things had been…well,  _different._ Of course they were. Dean had nearly had a heart attack when they had breached the Veil, only to be greeted by a very confused man wearing Lucifer's face; a small slip of a girl shivering in a thin dress beside him. Eve and Lucifer's vessels couldn't remember anything, a blessing really, and Raphael had ensured they were both returned home safely.

The monsters went underground, hiding after their defeat. The Gods returned to their homes and halls, though there were some pretty epic celebrations conducted before hand. Dean had lost track of the names and faces of the deities that congratulated him, bowing their heads before his daughter in respect. It didn't feel real, and Dean floated through it all in numb disbelief. It was only when they got back to Bobby's and he finally held his daughter in his arms properly, that he broke down. Crying with relief, shock, and for the gift that he had never really wanted, but now couldn't imagine life without.

Cas had simply smiled, wrapping them both in his arms as they sat together on the living room floor, all of them alive and safe. It was everything he could have asked for.

He thought it would be weird, that he'd never be able to get past the fact that his angelic love baby was meant to be  _God_  in disguise, but she was just like any other child. She'd fuss, get sleepy and cranky, eat and laugh; Dean would nestle her against his shoulder and hum to her the songs his own mother used to sing to him. Sometimes she'd say things in a language Dean couldn't understand, and Cas would smile and answer her in the same strange tongue.

They stayed at Bobby's. Handy thing having a pair of archangel's on their side, and Bobby's house gained some new extensions. The old hunter didn't mind; enjoyed having what he considered family so near. The little girl had recently developed "Unca' Babby!" and the hunter had been lost to her charms immediately. She was fascinated by his beard, rubbing her cheeks against it with kittenish purrs, and Bobby would laugh, stroking her hair. He wouldn't hear anything about any of them moving away, and Dean frequently would lose his daughter, only to find her snuggled in Bobby's arm for a nap, both snoring away in the warm afternoon sun.

The power she had demonstrated in the Veil was muted in the real world. She couldn't resurrect dead Gods, though Dean caught her on more than one occasion resurrecting an unlucky moth in a spider web, or a mouse caught by a trap. One time he had glanced outside to see her and Fenrir both sat in the dirt outside, staring intently at something by their feet. She could teeter around on unsteady legs, and the little fledgling often lumbered around the house clinging to Fenrir's legs as the giant wolf hovered around her every step.

Dean had joined the two outside to find them staring at a robin; the small bird had flown into one of the windows, snapping its delicate neck. As he watched, his daughter at frowned at it, cupping her small hands around its cold body gently. Then, slowly and carefully, she had bent down, warm breath fanning across the orange feathers of its breast, and with a start, the bird had blinked back into life.

It had been cute to begin with; a menagerie of resurrected woodland creatures following her around like something from a Disney movie, but Dean had drawn the line when she had managed to resurrect a rather bad tempered raccoon that Bobby had hit with the truck. The thing had practically  _destroyed_ his best jacket in its attempt to avenge its own death. Cas had to have a quiet word with the fledgling about  _not_ resurrecting everything that died; that death was a part of life.

Unfortunately Michelle took this as meaning that Death, the horseman, personally went around killing squirrels and the like, and the next time the horseman dropped in for a visit she had glared at him, crossing her little toddler arms and refusing to talk to him.

That was the other thing Dean had to get used to; supernatural beings were constantly dropping in, all wanting to see the miracle fledgling. He had been uncomfortable at first, distrusting of the creatures he had been raised to kill. But Gabriel was never far away, and Cas seemed at ease, so Dean was too. Death checked in on them all at least once a month, though Dean wasn't really sure why. Secretly he thought the horseman was just as enamored with her as the rest of them.

Dean was genuinely happy. He had the family he never thought he'd be able to have, and Cas…well. Cas was his everything.

 

* * *

 

Sam sighed happily, tilting his face more towards the sun, relishing the warm heat that washed over him. Fenrir huffed in reply, tail thumping once against the sun warmed dirt. The wolf had tried to crawl into Sam's lap, and now lay draped half on, half off Sam's crossed legs, as the Winchester slowly ran his fingers along Fenrir's broad skull. Bobby and Balthazar were sprawled in some rickety old chairs on the porch, beers in hand as they swapped stories with gruff chuckles.

With Lucifer's defeat, hell had been left leaderless. Through Crowley and Raphael, a tentative truce had been struck between heaven and hell; Crowley becoming hell's unofficial governor. There was talk of setting up a demonic council that would handle Hell's affairs (all crossroad demons of course, black eyes were too sadistic for politics) that would ensure that no single 'ruler' of hell could go power hungry and start off another apocalypse. The council would probably be formed quicker if Crowley spent more time in hell, but the demon seemed perfectly happy to spend most of his time lurking around Bobby's. He even had his own room right next to the old hunter's that Gabriel had magicked up; decked out in red and black.

Crowley hummed to himself, drawing Sam's attention back to the present, and he smiled as he noticed Michelle cuddled against the demon's chest. The fledgling clutched the lapel of Crowley's jacket in one hand, the other firmly in her mouth as she sucked on it sleepily. As Sam watched, Crowley kissed the top of her head, a blissful smile permanently fixed on his face.

Gabriel stood a little ways out in the scrapyard, hands shoved in his jean pockets as he spoke to two figures. Hel looked as intimidating and wild as ever; frizzy black hair all over the place as she grinned at her father and laughed loudly. The man next to her was quieter, tall, hardly Nordic in appearance, and Sam peered at him curiously.

A thin pale man with very angular features, he wore a tailored suit of dark green, now and then a black tongue flicking out from between his lips. His black hair was slicked back on his skull; his general appearance just rather…wet. Fenrir flicked an ear sleepily, nudging his nose hard against Sam's thigh.

" _My brother, Jörmungandr,_ " the wolf murmured. " _He is informing my father of the Leviathans retreat to deeper waters. They are no longer a threat."_

Sam chuckled, pinching Fenrir's ear playfully. "I gotta say, you guys don't look much alike. Maybe you're adopted."

The Nordic God chuffed to himself, playfully kicking Sam gently with his back paws. " _Oh how amusing you are Samuel."_

The porch door swung open on squealing springs, and Sam craned his neck to see Dean stomp out, a teddy bear held in front of him as if it offended him. His brother shook the stuffed animal angrily, glaring around at them all.

"Alright, which one of you did this?" he demanded.

Sam clapped a hand to his mouth hurriedly before a laugh could force its way out; Balthazar not quite managing in time and half choking on his own laughter.

Someone had taken Michelle's teddy bear and carefully sewn red felt over its eyes; adding two perfectly pearly white fangs stitched just beneath its mouth. Crowley's humming hitched up a notch as he started inching his way down the porch steps, looking innocently up at the sky. Dean noticed his retreat and shook the teddy bear at him.

"Do you think this is appropriate?" he growled. "A demon teddy bear?"

Crowley sniffed to himself, rubbing a hand down Michelle's back as she snuffled unhappily at the loud voices around her. "Well it's a more accurate representation of her everyday life. Besides, she loves Mr. Giggles."

Dean's eyes bugged. "Mr. _Giggles?_ "

Crowley smiled. "Of course. He  _laughs_  as he disembowels the innocent. Hence, Mr. Giggles."

"It begs disbelief that you are still allowed here, demon," Raphael materialized in a flap of wings, dressed in a simple gossamer gown. She had been busy reorganizing heaven, slowly beginning to rebuild what had been lost; building nests once again and restoring the library. Crowley grinned over at her winningly.

"I guess it's because of my overwhelming attractiveness."

Raphael arched an eyebrow at him, smoothing her hands down the slight swell of her stomach. "Evidently."

A new heaven had evolved after the battle. Across heaven fledglings began to be born again, but not like they used to. Fledglings could now only be born out of love between two angels, much like their human cousins. The angels struggled with this new concept, to begin to love one another as more than emotionless soldiers. Their numbers were low after centuries of fighting and hatred, so fledglings were sorely needed. The angels struggled, but not futilely. Slowly, they were becoming what Sam had always imagined angels to really be, beings of joy, love and hope. Hopefully somewhere out there, Michael and Lucifer were discovering that too.

Raphael was heaven's true trailblazer. Pregnancy suited the archangel, and Raphael's dark skin was practically shimmering. With a grunt, Balthazar struggled out of his chair, spreading his hands wide as he smiled goofily.

"My bronze Valkyrie returns!"

Raphael sighed heavily, rolling her eyes as the younger angel clattered down the steps to her side, glowering at him as he spread his hand protectively across her bump, thumb rubbing against the sheer material of her dress.

"Balthazar, I  _distinctly_  remember asking you to desist making such rem-mmph!" With a cheeky grin, Balthazar leant in and kissed her. The archangel turned an embarrassed red, swatting at him half-heartedly as he pulled away.

"I mean,  _really,_ " she spluttered, though her smile and soft eyes betrayed her true feelings.

Sam had initially thought it was creepy, knowing that angels were pairing up in heaven, actually…well, falling in  _love._ They were siblings after all! But Gabriel explained that 'siblings' was a loose term, and Sam decided it was much simpler not to think about it.

Further away, it seemed Gabriel had finished speaking to his children. Sam watched curiously as the archangel hugged each God in turn, the children of Loki then disappearing in a flume of smoke. Whistling, Gabriel turned and made his way back towards them, nodding towards Raphael with a smile, before making a silly face at the now awake fledgling in Crowley's arms.

"And how is my little Mish-Mish?" Gabriel crooned, reaching out to take the sleepy girl from Crowley. "Sleepy time huh?"

Michelle yawned, one hand rubbing her eye as Gabriel settled her against his hip. "Daddy?" she asked, lower lip beginning to jut out just a little.

Sam smiled up at her from the porch step. "Daddy's having a snooze, sweetheart."

Castiel had been the busiest of all of them. Between juggling the toddler, Dean, and trying to help rebuild the devastation Lucifer had wrought, he had flitted from place to place almost constantly. Things had begun to settle down now though, and they could all really begin to be a  _family._ Whatever that meant in their crazy lives.

Dean settled down beside Sam, teddy bear still in his hands. Noticing her favorite toy, Michelle reached for it, perking up and chirping happily. With a roll of his eyes, Dean handed it to her, muttering about demons and bad influences, as Crowley looked on with a grin.

Gabriel shook his head with a chuckle. "You know, I  _really_  don't envy the guy who might one day try and date her."

Bobby leant forward in his chair, eyes glittering. "He wouldn't make it up the driveway."

Crowley snorted, reaching his hand out to trail his fingers along Michelle's bare arm. "Yeah just stick her in a nunnery. She'll basically be praying to herself."

In reply Michelle squealed, thumping Gabriel over the head with Mr. Giggles. "Down! Doggie!"

Fenrir raised his head, whining low in his throat. Gabriel laughed, jiggling the girl in his arms playfully. "Doggie isn't going anywhere princess. He's right there, having some one-on-one with Sammy-boy."

Any reply she had been about to formulate was lost in her happy high pitched babbling as the porch door once again swung open. Castiel emerged into the light, blinking tiredly, his hair stuck up in all directions.

"What are you doing to my daughter?" he growled playfully, squinting at them all. Dean grinned up at him as the angel came up behind him, bumping Castiel's legs with his shoulder.

"They're corrupting her with teddy bears and threats against future boyfriends."

Castiel nodded solemnly. "Excellent."

Sam couldn't help the grin that split his face in two as Dean laughed throatily, tilting his face up so Cas could lean down and kiss him, unashamed and happy.

Life would never be normal for them, but Sam was pretty ok with that. He had his brother, a niece, and a family he could actually call his own, as odd and weird as it was.

All in all it was a pretty damn good ending to the apocalypse, and they lived happily, ever, after.

...Mostly.

They are Winchesters after all.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: BLASPHEMY UP THE WAZOO, seriously, incestuous relationship, brothers getting it on, you know the drill.
> 
> Ok so here's a extra little bit! Hope you guys like, I am so going to hell for this...eh at least I'll be in good company :P NOW this story is done. I hope. haha! I just really wanted everyone to have a happy ending, especially Michael. Dude grew on me for some reason. So overload of fluff ho!

The warm summer breeze carried with it the scent of honeysuckle, and Michael breathed it in, eyes fluttering closed as he tilted his face towards the sun. A vast expanse of unblemished blue stretched above him; the golden grasses around him whispering to one another as the breeze stole through them, curious about the creatures nestled within their midst.

Opening his eyes, Michael glanced down at the motionless figure in his arms. The devil had been a malevolent force, an unstoppable evil that destroyed all in its path. But what lay in Michael's arms now was more akin to a fragile bird, newly hatched and quaking. Lucifer's wings trailed either side of Michael's hips, and with a soft smile, Michael brushed his fingers along their inky tips. Liquid silver danced beneath the pads of his fingers, surging towards him as if recognizing his presence and reveling in his touch. Leaning down, Michael pressed his lips to Lucifer's ear.

"Awake, beloved. It is time."

Behind the two angels rested a long abandoned cottage. It's stone walls were crumbling but still intact, it's roof mostly overtaken by grass and flowers. It had been a summer home for a family long ago, but now lay forgotten. A family of field mice nested within an old cupboard; Michael could hear their soft breathing, the tiny squeaks of pleasure the tiny mouslings gave as their mother groomed them one by one.

This was a peaceful place, a healing place.

Lucifer stirred, his eyes opening blearily to peer up at the blue sky. They lay in silence for a moment; Lucifer gazing up as Michael looked down.

"I never thought I'd see the sky again." The admission was quiet, the voice behind it subdued. Michael stretched his wings wide, allowing Lucifer to pull away, to sit on his own as he looked around them.

"I never thought I'd see  _you_  again," Michael met the admission with his own, and Lucifer looked over at him briefly before his eyes skittered away, ashamed.

"I don't…what…I feel…" Lucifer trailed off, blinking. "I  _feel._ "

Michael watched him gravely. "Yes."

Lucifer's wings twitched wildly as he struggled to remember, and Michael felt true sorrow when his brother did; the moment when all he had done crashed down upon Lucifer and he struggled beneath its terrible weight.

"No," Lucifer gasped, fingers clawing at his throat as he struggled to draw in breath. " _No_  I…I didn't…I… _never."_

Michael shifted, but did not offer himself as comfort. Not yet. "It is done, Lucifer."

"No," Lucifer spat fiercely, eyes wild as they finally lighted on him. " _No."_

Michael watched as his brother unraveled at the seams. Lucifer shook, he cried and screamed as he clawed uselessly at himself, wings thrashing. He pulled feathers from his wings, declaring himself unworthy, shivered in a curled ball on the ground, raged and grieved and pitied. And at last, turned to Michael, his eyes reflecting such broken grief.

"How could I…what have I… _Michael."_

Michael did not hesitate. He opened his arms and Lucifer was in them, pressing himself as close as he could. Lucifer shuddered against him, face buried in the safety of Michael's neck as hot tears of shame and regret slid in wet rivulets down his cheeks.

 

* * *

 

The passage of time was different in the place Michael chose. Days, weeks, months, Michael could not say for sure, nor did he care to. It was a healing place, but healing did not occur immediately. Lucifer had his own battles to fight, obstacles to overcome before he could heal completely. Tests of will.

The cottage was a small thing; only three rooms, but Michael fixed them as best he could. He could have simply snapped his fingers and built a mansion, but did not. With his own hands he began to reshape their new home; hammering nails back into place, repairing the crumbling walls and slowly rotting wood. Sometimes Lucifer helped him, other times he sat out in the golden field gazing up at the sky. Michael would join him as the air chilled and the stars winked into existence, and they would lie together beneath the black sky. Michael would recount the stories told to them long ago as Lucifer said nothing, eyes wet and glistening, hand squeezing Michael's so tightly.

Michael did not need to sleep, but found he enjoyed it. He built them a bed inside the cottage, lined with musty moth bitten sheets from a damp chest he found in the basement. He enjoyed the earthy smell, the holes bitten by insects that he traced with his fingers. He felt a part of the cottage, a part of a moment on earth, instead of merely looking down and observing. He was… _living._

* * *

 

One morning the golden grasses did not whisper to each other, but quaked, pressing themselves to the ground with fear. The calm breeze was now a screaming force that whipped across the plains; the sky dark and wrathful. As Michael stepped outside, rain lashed down upon him, tearing at his feathers with vengeful claws. Lucifer stood amongst the chaos, arms and wings spread wide as he stared up into the blackened sky.

Michael watched as his brother raged, screaming himself hoarse. Words boomed around him,  _why me, you, it's not fair…_

Michael said nothing. The storm raged for hours, days, Michael was unsure how long. He merely weathered it, eyes trained on his brother even as lightning ripped the sky asunder and thunder made the earth tremble.

But eventually, as all things, the storm passed.

The dark clouds receded, the grasses slowly rising from their cowed places against the earth. Lucifer was a forlorn slumped form among them, and the breeze whispered to him comfortingly. Michael shook himself, shedding glimmering droplets of water from his wings. The earth was wet beneath his bare feet, and Michael relished the feeling, relished the earthy musk in the air.

Lucifer's blonde hair hung in wet straggles, chest heaving. Michael reached out to touch him, fingers moving surely through his wet hair.

No words passed between them. Slowly Lucifer raised his face towards his brother, his eyes glimmering depths of regret. They asked him a thousand questions, yet Michael had no answer for any of them.

His fingers slowly traced the shape of Lucifer's face, smoothing away the guilt and pain. As Michael slowly sank to his knees, Lucifer leant into him, hands trembling as they reached for him. Lucifer's whole body shook, as if expecting rejection and disgust from the one creature he had hurt so badly above all others. Expected to be pushed away, to be hurt in return and cast away. It was all the fallen one deserved for what he had done; the penance he should surely serve.

Michael did none of these things. His fingers rubbed delicate circles into the back of Lucifer's hair as he pulled his brother closer. The two angels breathed each other in, Lucifer small and trembling, Michael quiet and steady.

"Why?" Lucifer's whisper was hushed, barely audible as the grass hummed. "Why, Michael?"

Michael looked down into the face of his brother. A face he had convinced himself he would never see again.  _Why._ Such a loaded question. Why did the Earth spin? Why did the sun rise and set?

Why did Lucifer become the devil?

Why, was not the reason they were here. Why, did not matter. It was done, and this was now. This moment, the two of them, together again. Michael would not allow the  _why's_ of the past to undo their  _now._

"Because, Lucifer," Michael murmured, his lips already tracing a path they had once followed so intimately. Lucifer's skin was pale in the light, soft beneath his hands as their feathers rustled together in the now calm breeze. Michael painted Lucifer's body with symbols, long forgotten letters and drawings that he drew with his fingers, feathers and tongue. Each more powerful than the last, each a murmured apology and absolution rolled into one heated kiss. Lucifer shook beneath him, disbelieving and frightened. He believed himself too broken, too unforgiveable for the evil he had willingly committed. He did not believe himself worthy to be saved.

Michael whispered prayers against the swell of Lucifer's hip, dotted kisses along the pale column of his neck that bloomed like rosary beads. Lucifer muttered his penance, cried tears of sin that ran down his cheeks, and Michael blessed them with open mouthed kisses. He made the Morningstar holy once again.

"Because I love you," Michael murmured into the air between them, against lips that had once spewed anger and hatred. Lucifer tightened his arms around the archangel's neck; pressing his lips more insistently to Michael's.

"Always," the once-fallen angel whispered.

 

* * *

 

They lived together, in the cottage. During the day the sun would shine, birds would sing. They would lie together in the long grass, voices low as they recounted old stories, moments thought lost. Michael could lose himself once again in Lucifer's smile, in his grinning eyes. And Lucifer would hold onto Michael's quiet strength, his deep laughs that never failed to make the Morningstar's wings curl.

The evenings would be spent either beneath the stars, or curled up together in the musty bed within the cottage. Sometimes they would mate, sometimes not. It didn't matter in those quiet lazy days, tumbled together, so intertwined neither knew where one began and the other ended.

 

* * *

 

He would never tire of this. Of simply lying with Lucifer, feeling his brother's quiet breathing against him, the beat of his heart. Michael sighed happily, burying his nose in the mess of blond hair tucked beneath his chin. Lucifer stirred at that, causing the old wood bed to creak as the angel drew his wings closer.

"Michael," he mumbled.

Michael nodded, a rumbling purr of contentment rising in his chest. Lucifer chuckled, batting at Michael's wings as they encircled the two.

"You're like a giant cat, you know. With wings."

Michael merely smiled in reply, and he felt Lucifer pull away slightly to look up at him.

"Michael," Lucifer said again, more seriously this time. "I need…I need to ask you something."

Sensing the seriousness of his brother's tone, Michael leant back against the pillows, releasing him. Lucifer looked unsure, worried even as he slowly sat up; hair unruly and wild as his wings twitched self-consciously.

"I…I don't remember everything. But I..." he winced, before rolling his eyes at himself. "Right. Stop the guilt trip." The Morningstar squared his shoulders, wings flapping surely. "Castiel. I need to talk about Castiel."

Michael reached out to take Lucifer's hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "So speak. What of the fledgling?"

He still found it difficult to refer to Castiel as 'his' or 'theirs'. They may have formed him in part, but the circumstances...Castiel was never meant to be theirs. Castiel was his own angel, he belonged to no-one.

Well. Gabriel might have something to say about that.

Lucifer's eyes darted away from his. "Will I…will I see him one day?"

Michael relaxed slightly. Even in their secret place, Michael knew where the seraph was. He liked knowing how Castiel was doing, him and his new fledgling, as well as Michael's other siblings. The family was doing well, healthy and happy.

Slowly the archangel nodded. "Yes, Lucifer. You will see him one day."

The Morningstar's wings fluttered. "I have to…say sorry. Though that seems like a really stupid thing to say."

Michael pulled his brother close against him again. "It is never a stupid thing to say."

Lucifer made an annoyed noise against his skin. "Yeah well, after all the shit I did, it seems kind of…lackluster." Lucifer's fingers tapped nervously against his skin.

"And I…I…there aren't enough sorrys in the world for what I did to you."

The admission caught Michael off guard. In their time together, they had not broached the subject of Castiel's birth. Michael wanted to move forward from it, content to heal together and form new, better memories. But it was foolish to expect such a thing to simply disappear. If he and Lucifer were to forge a new bond between them, the past must be put to rest.

"You…" Michael swallowed. "It is past, brother. I forgave you many years ago."

Lucifer pulled away, scowling. "I can't forgive  _myself_. I just…I lost control. What if it happens again?"

The mice were nesting again; Michael could hear them as they shifted against each other in the cupboard, little bodies pressed tightly against each other in their nest. Tiny hearts beating together in the darkness. Life in all its beautiful, imperfect glory.

"It won't."

Lucifer jerked at his voice, eyes narrowing. "You can't know that. What if I fall again? Maybe I'm doomed to just repeat the same mistakes over and over for the rest of time." He looked away, rubbing his bare arms nervously. "I…I don't want to do that, Michael. I _can't_  do that again. Not…not to you."

Michael pulled him close again; lips warm where they pressed against his.

"You won't," the archangel repeated firmly, and Lucifer relaxed against him. "You won't because I won't allow it. We're in this together, Lucifer."

The Morningstar shone brightly in his arms, and Michael's eyes fluttered shut as inky black feathers trailed up and down his arms; kisses raining down upon his face like cool rain. Within Michael's grace, light pulsed and swirled, content and happy. A heart beat inside him, and it was not his own.

 _Soon._  Michael smiled against Lucifer's lips as the tiny being within him fluttered and crooned.  _I'll tell him soon._

__

_**Fin.** _


End file.
